I pass stone walls
with picket fences.
Saunter through aisles of tablets
To make amends.
Kneel beside a bald oak tree,
Lay my rose upon dead leaves.
The winter breeze chills my teardrops
As they fall upon my face.

Bow my head, say my grace
In this dark and desolate place.
Many years passed us by,
Not the reason I still cry.
Simple words my one regret-
To say I love you, before you left.

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