(Nicholas Gordon by Permission)
To lose someone who's loved you all your life,
Having held you long against the darkness,
And felt the press of friends upon your sadness,
Need cutting through your torment like a
knife . . .
knife . . .
Kindness is a sign of inner plenty:
Yours does much to mitigate my pain.
Of grief comes neither clarity nor gain
Unless friends fill its passion with their beauty.
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