You didn't die young
How lucky it is
to have winds of time
weather your frame
like sand,
to have bones
made feeble by age,
to love
till it rots,
to have lived
until spring rises from your heart.
Someday, when
your eyes would open
like the sunrise,
and new birds would sing
an old tale,
you'll be an earthworm
building a legacy, this world
can never pull down.
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