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Saturday, August 27, 2011

First Love

You were right when you said she was special,

Nobody can fill that gap.

A call or a message can mean so much,

It just feels like a rap.

A rap to the mind who thought she was the one,

A rap to the heart that went aflutter,

Promises- promises are easy to make

But just like butter.

The milk must be churned till promises

Can belie a heart that was once spurned,

Alas my dear! Those promises

Can't be kept, I may have yearned

But will give it up

All for you- my first love.

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