ELEGY

… a wandering

melodic melancholy or

moving

a mountain of

mire

tire not in last stance

it is ALWAYS soon mourning

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… perhaps MY problem with elegy – aside from the constraints of conforming to set pattern,  is that every day we wake to mourning. We’ve all lost and at the end of the day … what can you say? …time heals? Good grief…

Sometimes, the less said the better…

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