Cycles
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Wildflowers bloom on a mountainside,
As icy waters on their tumbling ride,
Flow in haste to meet the Sea,
On a cycle that will always be.
Cycles, cycles
everyplace,
Even in my life, I face,
The fact that cycles often race
With no regard to proper pace.
So I was born and grew up
fast,
And now I'm free to love at last,
And need you to complete the chain
Of the cycle that is in my name.
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Copyright © 1983 Ara John Movsesian
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