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Quiet Song

Emma Ramey

They are all outside,

with flowers. Not for me

but each other. Not for me

but the wind.

The one window just above ground.

I see foot upon foot, see them all

as they hear my tune and throw

each bouquet high into the air.

I don’t need to see it, the movement

of each foot saying it all,

saying who am I to wish

for anything, who am I to do anything

but watch each flower

wave goodbye.

Emma Ramey

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