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White Gravel.
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No ground could hold Her,
And shur that’s what we’re told.
But what matters that,
When the grief takes hold?
No grave could silence Her,
She’s immune from its hold.
But I know that too,
And shur that’s what we’re told.
She was no saint either,
Yet was salt of this world.
But that too I know,
And shur that’s what we’re told.
No ground could hold Her,
And shur that’s what we’re told.
Yet here I stand where a body lies,
Under a spread of white so bold.
©Fergus Carty 2020
Dear Gion
Another sad poem from you. Good one surcharged with emotion .
Looking for some cheerful ones for the New Year’s start.
Best wishes
Kusum