The trees, the grass, the flowers
Green
A shade of grey in this deathly dream
A cold and misty morning felt
where love and life and humour melt
And all around me living things
change and grow and sail on wings
But how at last will they die
and others' lovers crash and cry?
And when my lover
alas, she too
will mourn and weep a morning rue
When the black inhales me long and deep
and I drift in endless, empty sleep
-Dan Puskar 1993
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