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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 03-June 07:23:32 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 24307
[catid] => 1
[aid] => Mick
[title] => My Friends the Dead
[time] => 2003-10-03 12:35:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => I went to a graveyard one day-alone Too seek solitude amongst the stones That seem-in my mind-to make good friends For they are always there for you in the end I strolled among my comrades gray And they warmly beckoned me to stay So I made a little plot my bed And I lay down amidst the dead I awoke within my dream at last And found a bitter image from the past Of friends who turned on me-and I on them Repeating itself again and again Of taking for granted the people who strive To love us and make a difference in our lives My dream then ended-I sat up straight The sun was setting, the hour grew late I thought what excellent friends the dead always make You need not give to them, and they never take Whenever you have something you want someone to hear The dead will always lend you an undistracted ear And then in the soft pale light of the moon I noticed fresh cut flowers by each tomb And notes taped to the monuments above I realized that it is in death that we are most loved. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 259 [topic] => 13 [informant] => Scott [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => DarkPoetry )
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