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Cold To Touch Upon
And you've never truly felt so meek
In the midst of a loved turned bleak;
Their face is there, memories too,
But their breath has left, their love too.
So to say goodbye is a step too late
For the one you loved has left for fate.
And whilst they have gone, you have stayed
To carry on a bit less great.
These people who've nurtured us grown
Will never get back what they've sown.
And naught is clearer in fresh grief
Than the ways in which we were all too brief.
