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Celebrations and mourning

A stray golden hair

triggered an hour 

of weeping inconsolably;

Could it have been 

a lengthy nightmare 

Of you gone?

I never believed
 in heaven 

till your death wiped

clean such beliefs.

I needed you 

watching over me.

Not too many tears today, 

I tell myself, 

for you must be 

floating in cake and ice cream. 

How else do you turn 12,

Darling?

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