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A tribute to the loss of my most loyal of friends. |
| He Is Gone With the rise of each sun is a rise in despair As I look for my friend each morn. He is gone. He is gone, And with him a part of me, too. I am left wretched; my soul is depressed, forlorn. Alone, I listen for the rhythm of his steps, His approach to sit by my side. He is gone. He is gone, Replaced by a chasm of grief As profound as this truth: My loyal friend has died. I miss him more than story, song, or verse can tell, More than I'd imagine or know. He is gone, he is gone. I remain, though no longer whole; He's lost, taken from me, leaving me sad and low. If I could foresee, pre-feel the pain of his loss, Might've my love for him still grown? He is gone. He is gone, Yet best am I owning his love, His loyal devotion, than to never have known. |