You spoke so little,
yet I could hear
the hush of heaven
drawing near.
And every storm
that made me bleed
bowed to your quiet,
and learned to leave.
Be'ahava,
The Mourning Bird
You spoke so little,
yet I could hear
the hush of heaven
drawing near.
And every storm
that made me bleed
bowed to your quiet,
and learned to leave.
Be'ahava,
The Mourning Bird
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