| The first of March faltered like an ache and the hours blurred together in the
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| grey*
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| She didn’t change the sheets or make the bed, just put her cheek where he once
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| lay
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| She curled up in the hollow where his skin left a faint trace of mint and leaf,
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| where the cotton held him captive and where she’d watched him sleep
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| Some people move through our lives and then they’re gone like the morning rain
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| Some stand with the stillness of a soldier at their post and never change
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| Some dance along the waterline like waves against the coast
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| Some forever haunt you like a ghost
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| February stole more than the snow, bringing early spring to Baltimore
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| She was surprised to see him after all those years of leaving out the alley door
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| This time would be different, he swore it with the rapture of a baptized man
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| His words undressed her loneliness with a gospel built on sand
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| Some people move through our lives and then they’re gone like the morning rain
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| Some stand with the stillness of a soldier at their post and never change
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| Some dance along the waterline like waves against the coast
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| Some forever haunt you like a ghost
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| Oh my love, stay
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| Oh my love, I can wait
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| Some people move through our lives and then they’re gone like the morning rain
|
| Some stand with the stillness of a soldier at their post and never change
|
| Some dance along the waterline like waves against the coast
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| Some forever haunt you like a ghost |