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Ocelot's Poetry and Songs

 Counting
 
Counting down the final hours,
until our paths must part.
The joy and warmth of loving you
is stolen from my heart.

A love of unimagined depth,
a peace that feels so right
is all but banished from my mind
on this, our final night.

My inward eyes begin to turn
to all that lies ahead.
And Happiness that should be mine
is filled with grief instead.
 
Kevin Metcalf
1998

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