Let each hate, and ours for his, Be scraped away. Hopefully He cared for some— At least the few That may have cared for him.
Allow unchanged what good remains. At length, with love or hate or both, We go. In time, some with pause And some without, return.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry by common means.)