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(3)
by -A
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2218160
EPITAPH OF A FRIEND,THOUGH THEY ARE NOT GONE.

From far down south,
then yanked way up north.

He never was bare of his service coat,
the same with a smile.

He marched into the night sky,
with shoes polished to match the stars.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2218160-The-Cadet