From which crest of
Memory peak
You Mull over
The wind blast
Curling the seat
On Airbus, or
Accommodating the Volvo deck
You Weigh me up
Peeping window
With your
Cursory glance
Knowing not
How I died
Craving thy heart
Blow the wind, blow
Swaying cemetery-grass
With weeds along
Fleeting moments
Lurk here
For a die
Hoeing burial sight
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