Love Worth Not Forsaken
It was love that grew young,
So it could have more time to give.
Love that had the greatest of feel,
Enticing to a touch so pure to those-
That live in the braille to see in the -
Delight of its raised parts.
Love so worn to soon be one with the dust,
But praised with remembrance in the best and-
Worst of remembering.
Oh love not forsaken,
Put to rest on a bed of nails-
Yet so in comfort.
Oh love the beauty in the stride of -
Your long legs, the parade in our journey.
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