A sob is shaken from a heart exposed.
A back is turned, the silence falls.
Such fond farewells are as songbird’s calls
for endless springtime; temperate, kind.
The planets circle, the ivy climbs,
And naught can halt the passing time,
Nor keep alive what love must die.
Thus horizon line is the far road’s end.
And to that place we all shall lend
our daily strife in joy and woe.
Though close it seems, we’ve far to go.
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