Beyond The Box's Walls

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Beyond the glass box's walls,
Trees sway in the wind's wild thralls.
Though their sounds I cannot hear,
To see them moves me, and brings me cheer.

From the pitch box, I hear a sweet birdsong,
Pure, it carries me along.
Though their colors I cannot see,
Their melodies uplift me.

Yet still, my mind does wonder so,
What do the trees sound like?
What hues do the birds truly adorn?

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