promise me this

when cold begins to crawl

and limbs begin to tremble

eyes close to sleep

and August becomes December

you will in eternal rest

wake from your joyous magnification

slip silently in return

and whisper so sweetly

as you did when we denied your lament

and promised with eloquent grace

to come back and deliver a glimpse

so the tattered edges of my soul

no longer in denial would fain

get a little rest



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