by Dean Friedman
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She grew up across the hall, with a bear lying on her bed
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and Elton John up on the wall.
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She followed him everywhere from Nursery school to Harvard Square.
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They were born a year apart. They knew each other's souls by heart.
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No one knows. No one knows.
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We try hard to be discreet. Some things are trouble to disclose.
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It keeps us on our toes. And no one knows.
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She was popular in school. She was friends with all the boys
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but there was only one voice that could wash away her blues.
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She read him her poetry and pages from her diary.
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He would long for her to stay. But she would blush and turn away.
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No one knows. No one knows.
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We try hard to be discreet. Some things are trouble to disclose.
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It keeps us on our toes. And no one knows.
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He came home one afternoon. She was lying on his bed watching TV in his room.
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She saw him standing there. She had no fear. She didn't care.
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They spoke each other's name. The room burst out in flame.
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No one knows. No one knows.
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We try hard to be discreet. Some things are trouble to disclose.
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It keeps us on our toes. And no one knows.
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No One Knows
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Dean Friedman |