Promise


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Encased in forced waiting
The leaves crouch for spring.

Those curious buds from a stick.

What was rendered by autumn,
The end of the harvest,

Will blossom about, oh so thick!

Encased in forced waiting
Saved souls crouch for spring.

Those curious men like sticks.

What was rendered by autumn,
The end of the harvest,

Will blossom about, oh so thick!

By His Grace

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