| She’s catching the wind… the gentlest of breezes.
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| It’s a sensitive passage she’s sailing —
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| Through stormy straits, navigates my unfathomable failings.
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| She rises before me, reading me clearly.
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| Empty nest left pressed in the pillow.
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| She can shift, she can sway
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| and bend like a willow.
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| I’m swept in the riptide. |
| Caught in a fish trap.
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| Gift-wrapped in my soft self centre.
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| Summer sun leaves me as one who can only taste winter.
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| She’s a good, a good God-send… she can bend like a willow.
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| With a fully armed angel to cover me quickly,
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| I’m cool under enemy fire.
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| If I fall, she can crawl right under the wire.
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| When I’m caustic and cold, she might dare to be bold —
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| ease me round to her warm way of thinking…
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| fill me up from the cup of love that she’s drinking.
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| And I find, given time, I can bend like a willow.
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| She bends like a willow
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| Bends like a willow.
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| Like a willow.
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| Willow. |