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Meredith Marrs The Song of the Widow
The wind plays upon my face, bows through my hair. Flowers’ fresh blooms send me wafts of sweet fragrance. Does the springtime grow so strongly for you there?
At night I sit in awe of moon’s radiance. The day is dark, so lonely here, without you. But though you’re not here, I still feel your presence.
I felt your hands in my hair as the wind blew. You sing me your love through the songbird’s whistle. These songs hold me until I may be with you. |
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