When I think of you
I smile fondly
Dear friend,
Not said of you just in death,
But in life aswell
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I look to the world
the threatening grey clouds
smothering the city.
A mirror of our grief
and I shed no tear
But on a day
dry of rain and drear
full of colours
tinged with yellow
I cry for you
missing this once shared sight.
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No irregularity.
Life goes on.
Such is the cliches of life...death.
No words to describe
just simple sharp pains
that barb themselves
into our hearts:
Death.
Gone.
Departed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem