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footprint poem

short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
tell me
in your arms was still delight
my sorrow, when she's here with me
in mournful numbers
i cannot always feel his greatness
as a white candle
sad are they who know not love
perhaps it is no matter that you died
a little peach in the orchard grew
little park that i pass through
with joy and wonder

 



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