Listen ’til heatbeats sync
deep into depths of the soul
let the well echoes swell
a silent song composed
Listen ’til heatbeats sync
a rhythm of our own
warm hands softly grasped
pumping our silent love code
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Repurcussions
“Who’s there?” inquired the rogue, transfixed to the face in the water.
Echo, granted fortune to speak, chanted back to him “who’s there?”
The young man about-faced but simply could not see
Sweet Echo who was slyly obscured amongst the leafy trees.
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