p.107

I am a headstone, placed gently
where my heart used to lie.

Wind and rain have worn me down
as the years have drifted by.

A mirror image of my long gone
soul, I am cold and broken,
chipped and cracked.

The seasons pass, and
spring blooms new life,
and fresh air.

Nobody has bothered to
plant flowers at my
base.

I truly have turned
to stone.

please visit me

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