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Apr 2019
Over the hills
nightingales sing
to the chime of bells
ringing acrossΒ Β 
English fields.

There, the lovers lay,
admiring the beautiful
blue spring day.

Out on the blanket
they roll with laughter,
recalling old memories,
and dreaming of dreams after.

Her beauty, a treasure
one truly adored.
A life without her
he could not afford.

As the sun sets
behind the hills,
his eyes begin to
fill with tears.

He leans in,
for a kiss,
only to feel a
cold, hard cheek.
Pulling back with haste,
a cry, a scream.

He rolls with anguish
recalling same memories
without dreams after.
Dark clouds appear,
her hand not near.

A rose placed
at her head, underneath.Β Β 
The lovers lay,
separated from her
by six feet deep.
Written by
Chris Lazzaro
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