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And so you died; that's no great deed, my friend.
It's something every living thing must do;
And though you sometimes chose to court that end,
Death chose the time and place to marry you.

"Unfinished!" was the cry from us who heard
How early and untimely ending came--
How songs unsung and promises  deferred
Went past revision, dumb to praise or blame.

So then you died and cannot speak to me
Of how our last experience played out;
But I can hope your hope has set you free
For places past the harms of fear and doubt.

You left, but left me lessons yet to learn
And took a part of me you can't return.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

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Date: 2/22/2016 5:59:00 PM
I commend you for your well-crafted sonnet. It is a thoughtful and artfully constructed work, demonstrating your grasp of the language and your regard for couching your personal experience in a way that may be universally understood and deeply felt without intrusion into individual privacy. Good work!
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Jerrell Jones
Date: 2/23/2016 6:41:00 AM
Thanks, Leo.