He shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary him nor the years condemn.
Death is smaller than I thought
Pablo died some years ago. I loved him very much. When he died my love for him Did not vanish or fade away. It stayed just about the same, Only a sadder colour. And I can feel his love For me, Same as it ever was.
Nowadays in good times or bad, I sometimes ask Pablo To walk besides me Or to sit with me So we can talk together Or be silent.
He always comes to me. It's very simple-- Nothing to do with spiritualism Or religion or mumbo-jumbo.
It is imaginary. It is real. It is love.
adaption of a poem by Adrian Mitchell
You were always on my mind
Maybe I didn't treat you Quite as good as I should have. Maybe I didn't love you Quite as often as I could have. Little things I should have Said and done. I just never took the time. You were always on my mind.
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