Your child face, covering tender years,
Sometimes from the angular disposition,
My selfish nature would look to you.
From now onward those years,
Adding dust and withering like flowers.
Why my vision goes to decades, yet to be.
Of your glowing beautiful hair, why,
I see them turning into silver grey.
Would they know how much I loved you.
And sometimes, when I see you crying.
Would they know that one day those tears,
Would be rivers and eyes turned stone.
I live, I would have only lived, and I would have,
Transformed myself into a living statue.
But would they know how much I loved you.
Ah! I would have forgone my death, to live
Like a tree, like a stone in the corner, if you,
Tell me that you would not cry for me and,
That you will live a much fuller and happier life.
The Path: By Nicholas Delaney
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