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Image for the poem FINALE SEASON

FINALE SEASON

My sweet son
Do not morn my death
For at the close of winter’s season
We’ll meet at your finale breath

I’ll be there to greet you
Against the light of the opening day
I’ll guild you along
Heaven’s eternal pathway

We’ll paddle down a crystal stream
To a great emerald wood
There we’ll hunt the Golden Stag
Of silver antlers and diamond hoof

In this land of sky blue waters
You and I will camp together  
Where both the hunter, and the hunted
Live on forever, and ever
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