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- Her Last Home

 

Just like oil on canvass?
Touch of red, mostly black?
Thick are the air and the fog that hide her from you?

Weeps? shadow?
Cries ? sparkle?
"She sleeps, she sleeps?"

Once in time, there she was,
Standing by the willow tree,
Longing for an old feeling, being his?

Now she is like a torn flower,
Alone?

Among the trees, and underneath the leaves,
There is her last home, she lies there all alone?

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