I release you of the sins, yours and mine
It has been raining so incessant
The certainty of past seems as dim
As the perspective of what could become,
Have we not all
And have we not had it, all fall
To keep what is left of
Have we none, mere sins?
The music, the meetings, the letters
Held close and cried with, rewritten at times
May be you will, in return bring
Some scattered bits, to keep
A picture, scarlet and clear
Away from all make beliefs.
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