We are in a hurry to know
The next, curious to know.
Our nows ask who is next.
This woman is a lightbulb
And her light is in a pocket
And shows through blouse.

Brother is a wind in trees
Gently passing old woods.
He had a next after years
Of his brother’s early next.
(His bulb had quite a light
Now softly passing trees.)

We are in a hurry to know
The next, curious to know.
The woman is still her bulb
With no next sign to light.
She will be happy to know
The next, curious to know.

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