Seeds of Sorrow
No time left to beg or borrow.
Here lies my friend; bone and marrow.
A quiet place finally found.
A soul at peace in hollow ground.
His headstone placed within a row.
Yet, lonely, as an old scarecrow.
A journey that’s sure to astound.
Where preconceptions come unbound.
My ol’ friend, oh how I wish we could speak of it all tomorrow—
Then, I could dry my eyes and stop watering these seeds of sorrow—
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