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The Crows, the Wind and (standard:poetry, 125 words)
Author: kendall thomas Added: Nov 23 2008Views/Reads: 1433/0Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)

The crows will still call across the Cumberland 

Long after I'm gone. 

The wind will still wend its way through the tall grasses 

And the trees. 

The locusts will still drop their sweet scent in the spring 

along with the honeysuckle, 

And that which is left of me will still be a part of the whole. 


But what is that to one, 

Who lives and breathes, 

To become a lump of clay or a willow tree? 


Yet would I want eternal youth? 

Would insensible beauty be a joy forever 

Or a chain around the neck? 


How I have grown tired of this old world 

With all its myriad facets. 

How tired and wasted, then, a god must be 

Who knows the morrow. 


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