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For days of weeks, we sought to be as speakers,
Though our words, most yours, are now unheard
And all is owed to mem’ry, an accidental cause.
A laugh, a question known but answered not,
For who needs such trivial’ities if words be second;
First our legislature’d hearts, signed to service,
Though so knotted in the legalities of parchments,
As to not be held in hearing, but ‘stead in subtleties,
A way of coward, I, who knew not your desires;
Desires but by an unfilling, flinched in hesitance,
Though they, through knowledge, now, be, too, mine.
And, through them, these, you will most see who this,
Yours, is, reluctantly, in speech, alone, as now is known.

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musings & scribbles