Her Silent Soul
It was the night of the night.
A delightful evening mild
in the stillness of death.
Her silent soul,
so gallantly nice.
There wasn't a moon,
not even glittering starlight.
The trees whispered.
The winds watered
honey and free.
A loving past at heart
Peach sent memory,
Her loving touch
rising sweet.,
near and far.
Her silent soul.
By
Jay Johnson
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