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May 2013
He wanted to marry her, he did.
Grow old with her, raise a kid (or 2).

So he bought her a ring,
Such a beautiful thing,
And hung it in a tree.

It was the morning after snowfall,
So the ground was a glittering white.
But he hadn't expected the wind, no,
He hadn't expected his plight.

He took his girl to the treeline,
And tried to find the ring.
But the ring had long been buried,
And now lies there; unseen.

He searched and searched for hours of course,
But all to no avail;
His love had buried the ring of course,
Smothered until it failed.
Written by
Nic R
451
   Lior Gavra
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