Sometimes he dreamt he held her that he would turn in bed and she would be there But she was gone and he was old Nearly seventy Only cool paint met his fingers Ma tr s ch re Darkness started to fall, dimming the paintings He felt the crumpled letter in his pocket I loved you so, he said I never would have had it turn out as it did You were with all of u Sometimes he dreamt he held her that he would turn in bed and she would be there But she was gone and he was old Nearly seventy Only cool pain...
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