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cat at your door |
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come out and play, |
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my newest friend |
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there could be things we'd |
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want to find |
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ears perked, eyes gleaming |
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you and I |
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but we won't have all day -- |
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the sun |
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rubbing its head on the clouds |
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has just found |
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a horizon to chase. |
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© Jon Bohrn (1998) |