Grave of Dreams
Yesterday was the memorial. We had gone out and missed it.
Perhaps it was meant to be, for no one had ever kissed it.
Goodbye, went the mourner, the only soul who came.
She had arranged her own funeral; the service, too, the same.
The night was still eerie, and the wind was freezing cold
When she knelt down for the last time, and wept her sorrows alone.
Upon that grave of dreams, she tried not to cry.
Sniffling after forgotten wishes, she laid there to die.
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