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it suits my mood
this rain

gray and chill
seeping deep
into bones
and sinew

my bad knee
complaining

with each step
lamenting

having left
the warmth
of the truck
for this trek
through a
field of stones

so i might
find the pink one

the only one
engraved with
an open book

her name
on its granite
pages

popping & grinding
my knee protests
at the cold
damp earth

as i kneel
to pay
respect
and
remember
my dead

cheeks wet
with rain

eyes dry
with time

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