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A Final Good-bye

We heard it.
The delicate echo of
Song, which danced in the air around us

Clenching and gently swallowing
our breaths as to not break the silence,
we looked up at the tranquilizing stars
which looked back in delirium
looking back at your soft hands
whose job was to comfort your head

And when we lied on the grass
all we could hear were the wrestling of leaves

And the crickets – too wrestles to sleep.

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