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Mistress of My Garden
Without any need for comfort,
I remain the sole mistress of my fort
Stoic, yet, stoned, I guard
Those flowers in my yard!
Those, which you left as mere legacy
To be seen as my solace in all accuracy
Never to wilt under my care
Lest your absence brings forth a scare
Does your soul swell and does it ache?
Each time mine burns with my own heartache?
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