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Birds Sing

The birds sing among the boughs
The wind blows soft upon the face
Life is hard on the best of days
Hard to remember in this serene place.
All too often in places like here
Folk come to be alone
To be found by those who them miss when gone
To carve their names upon cold stone.

This mural to Mags has been unveiled in town, painted by those to whom she was held dear...
This mural to Mags has been unveiled in town, painted by those to whom she was held dear…

 

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