Do our ghosts still ring out?
Do they sing our songs?
In the light through the trees do they remember
the heady days of our youth and of our friendship?
When nothing seemed impossible
and our dreams had known no doubt or fear?
Do the trees remember
all the days we were there?
Do they recall our laughter in the clearing
and our crazy party in the rain?
Do they whisper to each other
of the mad children who once graced them?
Do they miss us and speak our names
like we speak theirs?
- WM
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