You were probably
scattered in the wind
Fitting and proper for a gypsy dancer
But I have no place to sit and mourn you
No place to lay a single white rose
No place to shed my tears
I will think of you
As I watch the waves push onto the shore
Or in a garden of trees
I think of our early days
Laughing
And lying on the cool cement of an airplane hanger
Drunk from the heat and too much sloe gin
Always laughing whenever we were together
I will try not to regret
What should have been
And rejoice what was
And is always with me.
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