TITLE: THE TREES
By Maurice A. Williams
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The trees still here. They look the same.
The grass now all askew;
No longer cut, it fills the lane
That once we strolled, we two.
Those birds still sings their plaintive song,
Pine cones still everywhere.
Such happy days that now belong
To what we left back here.
So much has happened since that day,
The years just seem a blur.
I'd give my all to find a way
That takes us where we were.
How sad had there been no one else,
None there but you and I.
I'm glad that He who knows each pulse
Knew, even then, this sigh.
Maurice A. Williams
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