NO GREAT TEMPLATE
In the way of satisfaction, they have given out
tokens : ideas of salve and love. No man is an
island, except those who are. Let the little children
come to me, as I go about my Father's work?
-
The pottery kiln was still warm as they buried the
small bird in the yard, It had fallen or been killed
or somehow died. Probably no more than ten days
old, I'm not sure it had a clue the nest was no longer
its home. What's it called, a fledgling? Dead,
before it even had a chance.
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