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Life is but a memory of things yet to be,
constantly changing it's mirror image of me.
Doeth life bring sweet sorrow to me,
laugh only to be followed by a tear.
born of chance but only in fear,
naked and worn my taste of death be near.
O death be kind and gentle to me,
for my destiny be with thee!
Elizabeth C. Baldwin
Copyright ©2002 Elizabeth C. Baldwin
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