Year
The harbor bethel's bells toll
in funereal reprise,
the snow-dressed February
crocuses,
and a regal cardinal's
bright red plume border
the lacy-white wrought iron
garden bench,
It is here that I bid
you in whispers my
departed love -
to encircle me in
the sweetest
rhythmic sway of
a dance of hereafter. ~
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