Wintry ache, my heart is pricked,
The sight is sore, no ease at all.
Fascinated by why she pranced
I see it now, she rests by peace.
Is it for me to mourn or scoff
To walk jolly on without care to heed?
Goodbye, I long to say,
But this won't even come my way.
Ten years from now, will I remember you?
Still amazed at thy alpine ways.
K.Oni
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