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Melancholy

Why regret her passing?
Yes, 'way too soon', but
Such is LIFE.
The most beautiful apple blossom
Fresh fallen snow white, tinged with pink
Withers in a week and falls.

Whether dog or man, Our
Storm clouds gather and the chill
in breeze is turned to wind
And the rain, light at first
now cold, stinging and driving in our faces
as we gasp our last and pass
the thunder and the lightening

Unto a new sunshine breaking
upon a cool new dawn as Our children
And children's children gambole
And run and laugh and romp
In fresh green grasses nourished by the
Rains of Our passing Storm.

Such is Life and the only certainty
of Our immortality, is the strength
of MEMORY, etched by our deeds
In the hearts and minds of those who linger after,
Who come after us and roll with the thunderheads
To join US...in the next ROAR of the wind
As LIFE and times renew and replenish.

And I sometimes in alone moments, ask myself
What immortality and memory and certainty of
Remembrance will My life have etched?
Hands of a surgeon? Humour?
Determination of a teacher?
LOVE of a father for his daughters and wife?
Friend? Tactless, stubborn. Farmer.
They are ALL me, just as the gentle breeze and
light rain drives to hail and gale
and prunes the old dead branches and leaves
from the tree of life; It is ALL LIFE.

Or will my life be ebb and tide and washed
away in the sands of time with the gentle
Lapping of a single wave on the sand.
Flattened and forgotten; a new canvas
for the next? And the ripples of my life
extend further and more soothing
More comforting with less rage and fury
the further they are from the puddle
that was my beginning in this pond of Life.

For that pebble dropped in a single day into a sea
And each day lived is as the beginning and as the Last
ONE DAY... it is all we really have?

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Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

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