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Oct 2010
And, when I am but blown to dust,
To foreign lands, by releasing hand,
I pray that I will find your shore,
And mingle with the well worn sand.

And, unknown to thee, I shall linger,
In the company of your grace,
And in the stillness of your presence,
Send a soft memory of my face.

A memory to remind your soul,
That even though we may be apart,
Our love has always been enough,
To heal your grieving heart.
deanena tierney
Written by
deanena tierney  47/F
(47/F)   
558
 
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