Sunday, 10 March 2013

They do not grow old...

A never ending life
Only without the living part.

You will stay the same
Stationary in time.

Caught at forty five
As we grow old and weary.

And if the world begins to forget
We shall whisper your name
Gentle on the breeze
To soar over oceans.

One word to keep you close
Embroidered into spaces between us.

Because it will not matter
Where you are
You will always be here.

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