Lynda Grine

February 22, 1987 - Aïn Bessem
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The weeping olive trees

This heart
So heavy
How I wish
To carry their grief,
These eyes
So teary
How I long
To see them find joy again,
These hands
So empty
How I yearn
To hold them,
These feet
So still
How I pine
To run to their aid,
This soul
So damned
For not saving a single soul.
And so, as written before
These olive trees
Will weep tears
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