And, going on an evening stroll
Along the riverside,
I feel at one with every soul
Who’s ever lived and died.

It’s not my choice to walk alone;
That’s just the way it goes,
When everything has turned to stone
And doors that opened close.

The stars are like a lover’s tears,
The clouds like tufts of wool,
As, through the treetops, there appears
A moon no longer full.

The air‘s so crisp it clears my head
Which means that I can go to bed.

Photo by Robson Hatsukami Morgan on Unsplash

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