Marks
Etched on the edges of a woods
are the names of two lovers
We've seen it all before
With a knife the boy would carve her name beside his
perhaps after a picnic
The tree wouldn't mind of course
The tip of the knife would probably just tickle it
before the lovers leave for good
But as far as the old tree is concerned
nothing seems to distinguish these marks
from the ones we see on the grave
Somewhere along the way the two would meet
The name of death beside the name of love
that a god has scribbled on his notebook
while he was out having fun
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