Forgetting Is Living Without Regretting...
the sound of the whispering winds of spring
is the same as the soft spoken words we had
funny how those once happy words, now make me sad
we used to lay in a bed like a queen and king
but, tonight I lay in bed and wonder what tomorrow will bring
the sound of a campfire where everyone forgets
is the same as the fireplace we once slept by
on frozen nights as the winter flakes would fly
when the snowy storms blocked even sunsets
but both now and then I live without any regrets
the sound of rain on the leaves of a white oak
is the same as tears hitting this farewell letter
we always know that, someday, it will get better
but for this last moment the tears slowly will soak
around this setting ink that you did provoke
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