01 October 2008

01 10 2008

One by one in boxes they go, to the funeral of the loved.
What a sad state of affairs, what a heart ache.

The sepal of the flower gives way to less greater things,
And I watch the plant wither away

For what more could a plant be, without the roots that support it.
What could a heart be, without the love to feel or have.

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