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I pull up the covers
turn down the light
and hold the poems gently
through the lonely dream filled night
I cannot escape memories
Absence haunts all I do
When eyes close your face is what mind sees
Every place I go there are traces of you
No matter where I go or what I do I feel you there
When sadness is your occupation
And weariness your pay
There’s not a lot of point in asking for a raise
Or an extra day’s vacation.
               ljm
The truth of the matter.
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