With the rustle of each wind,
I look up at the bell,
perhaps, it will toll on its own
but no,
it just hangs there, tongue-tied
waiting for me to tug at the rope, perhaps?
The winds whistle away,
mocking at both of us...perhaps!
I look up at the bell,
perhaps, it will toll on its own
but no,
it just hangs there, tongue-tied
waiting for me to tug at the rope, perhaps?
The winds whistle away,
mocking at both of us...perhaps!
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