Our Love
Our love has died, quite young,
but none of us have gone to bury it ,
so no grave is to be found,
noone needs to know, but us....
How lovely is to bring the memory
of love so young the way it was,
so beautiful and flattering...
Now dust is left and trust,
the wind will play and have a ball...
But we will know the joy we had,
love to dust we won't forget.
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