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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.
Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.
Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.
November by Walter de la Mare
Girls are like apples on trees.The best ones are at the top of the tree.
The boy don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
instead ,they just get the fallen apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy.
so the apples at the top think somethings is wrong with them when in reality, they're amazing.
they just have to wait for the right boy to come along, the one who's BRAVE enough to climb up all the way to the top of tree...
:) ;) :D