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In MemoriamClose your eyes, my beloved, my dear, Gates of heaven with angels are near. Your shining eyes with tears are bare, And their lashes are moving by the air. Between their edges the color of a grave, Lying in whiteness, I wish I could save. Now your lips cannot be heard, Saying hello to the morning bird. They aren't now hiding the row, Whereof wisdom used to flow. Around their sides a track appears, Showing the nails of so many years. Saying slowly it is time to go, Taste of death man must know. Copyright ©1989 Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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