some people say,
yes?, Mr. Snow,
some people say,
he sings leaning over my shoulder,
while my fingers,
are lightly playing the keys,
people come into our lives,
for a reason,
I echo back,
flirting,
only this time,
Mr. Snow puts his hand on my shoulder,
when he has never put his hand on my shoulder,
for a reason, he echoes back to me,
I get up to walk away,
but he whispers to my heart,
singing,
I do believe,
yes?, Mr. Snow,
I do believe,
I reply,
because I knew you,
because I...
who can say?
the piano replies,
when one voice becomes two,
who can say?
Mr. Snow?, I ask.
Yes?
I still believe,
in fairy-tales.
Perhaps, he replies,
for good.
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