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There you stood on the edge of your feather, expecting to fly.
While I laughed, I wondered whether I could wave goodbye, knowing that you'd gone.
By the summer it was healing, we had said goodbye.
All the years we'd spent with feeling ended with a cry.
Babe, ended with a cry, babe, ended with a cry.

Crosby, Stills, Nash And Young ~~ Expecting To Fly