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Little Footsteps
Little footsteps tap on my window,
tapping on my roof and door.
Outside looking quite gloomy,
wet and dark, yet full of life.
All was silent, all was calm,
except for the tiny tappings on my home.
Like a musical symphony,
with a percussion solo.
The little tappings on my home,
stole the drumming show.
Nothing more calm, nothing more serene,
than the tappings and rappings of the summer rain.
Maybe the tap-tap-tappings at my tavern door,
isn’t a raven anymore.
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