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funeral poem

see, from this counterfeit of him
the long resounding marble corridors
a thousand silent years ago
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
out of the window a sea of green trees
a pen of steel
i am dying
some of the hurts you have cured
love me at last, or if you will not
you are my companion
sweet and strong
quietly, with reverance, in awe

 



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