He must put his all of everything into this following quarter hour – wherein words, all of these, are his
Stolen of course, how ever could they be anything else but?
Let them fall and rest upon this blank albeit nonetheless eagerly dressed page, where time does indeed permit all kinds of things
Adamant entirely on carefully taking the curvature of a comma and dancing – from one line through to the next
Together forever promising almost everything
More oft than not all of absolutely nothing, but he will smile either way
If only for this instant right now to pay it forward
Make his every next word a sudden step on into that elegantly arranged ballroom filled with hope and dreams
Pointing his finger in the right direction for her to possibly follow him

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