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When you return

I will not ask you why
you went away.
I will not ask you where
you were.

Mistakes I have made;
things I have done
in my life make pale
your journey.

I will read your eyes
like I read Old Seventy Creek,
its ebb & flow
& I will know your undercurrent

& I will know everything
of love I want to know,
for I understand how the creek speaks
in time of rising fog or falling snow.

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