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The moon, bending through the window blinds, I told time by the light casting shadows across your face while you told me this story,
"My grandparents were married for 63 years. On the day my grandfather died he laid in bed and said nothing but ‘love, love, love love’ then he puckered his lips and kissed my grandmother for the last time."
Love, love, love, love is like sunshine: sometimes you have to get burned to know you were there."
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