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Passion's Place
Paul E. Berube
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First moon became loves fond embrace,
to touch your soul in passions' place.
Remembered sighs on autumn's breeze,
have etched my mind with memories.
Through leas of rye you wander still,
on grassy plain and sloping hill.
It's sad we said our last goodbyes,
beneath October harvest skies.
You've gone to fields of finer wheat,
one day again our hearts shall meet.
Lifes emptiness can not erase,
the love we'll share in passions' place.
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