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    If I believed you

    Came with the all the great gifts of

    Love and what else a man offers

    To others and the world

    If I believed you could change

    In summer or winter

    In the dark or the light days

    In the company of others or alone

    If I believed that good things are created

    Between and for and by us

    It would matter greatly.

    But I will not be part of this entropy

    Where leaves keep falling

    --Summer always in aftertaste;

    Winter forever impending--

    And the temperature is resolutely 37 degrees.

    While perched on this perimeter of light

    This slice of meridian, this present time

    Of budding and dying and tides turning

    I feel the burning and quenching of the hours

    And rejoice that you have gone.


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