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Mark Lecuona Jan 2016
Every day I am drawn closer to leaves in flight
I do not understand how the spirit decides when to leave
I see his body
Lent to him by mortal marrow and masks
Hiding the animation that reveals itself reluctantly
Unless the gift is too great for ocean bottoms
And now it is gone
Leaving behind the recollections of a boy
The shared time with the friends he loved
And the songs that remind him of these things now

— The End —