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Nov 2013
She was a daughter of the Caribbean, a newborn star; she was the image of paradise before the fall. We met in the hallowed season, death haunted our days.  Her mind vexed by the turmoil; her spirit reaching for closure within the downpour of tears.  She touched me in ways unimaginable; this beautiful soul wishing I could see past her youth.  A grown woman wanting to spend her days with an old man.  I will never know what she saw in me; all I can remember is the joy of her hello and the absence of her goodbye.
David W Jones
Written by
David W Jones  Las Vegas, Nevada
(Las Vegas, Nevada)   
572
   Prabhu Iyer, --- and Emma
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