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There were three of us that summer you me & that funny Mr. Hitler all coming together perfectly poised in our trajectory as if it were our destiny. For us there would never be another summer storm clouds gathering on an horizon rooks rising angrily into the air you fading into memory yellowing photographs in which you never age. Mr Hitler and his Charlie Chaplin moustache nothing but a page in a history book you never coming back me forever going back to a point in time when I could call you mine...mine!