Oakwood
There is where I go to weep Among the stones, sorrow steeped
Granite rose, moss lichened Dates erased, names forgotten
Edges softened by the pine Embraced by cedar, cradled by time
Flower fragrant when renewed Resplendent death, vibrant hued
Anguish ebbed long ago Remaining still lingering echo
There I leave my deepest grief Among the stones, sorrow steeped
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