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Not really a Goodbye.
We remember them in fragments,
On the breeze their laughter blows,
And it dances like a ghost,
in and out our windows.
Sometimes it dies down for a day,
Or we're forgetting them for weeks,
But then the leaves bend in their branches,
and...
On the breeze their laughter blows,
And it dances like a ghost,
in and out our windows.
Sometimes it dies down for a day,
Or we're forgetting them for weeks,
But then the leaves bend in their branches,
and...
