Golden Sol has hidden
From an angry purple-orange morn
Revealing feelings now unbidden
A love has died, but who will mourn?
He has not called
She has not spoken
Where they were, once, both enthralled
Now both of them heartbroken
Over oaths they have dissolved
Anger, like a moss, grows thick
in the damp and shade
A hearty cure for those lovesick
At least, thatís whatís displayed
They keep their wounds out of the light
Sunlight will not cure
A better treatment, dry and dark
Cold, but quite secure
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