Fragrance of warm apple pie,
humming bees so near.
Spring, your lovely virgin breath
sets my heart on fire,
eyes will see no sign of Death,
currents take me higher.
Birds and planes soon left behind,
anxious moments teasing,
clouds beguile the drifting mind,
angel teardrops freezing.
Yes, my friend, you fly ahead
go and find your God.
Those who ache to join the dead
strike me rather odd.
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