this morning you shall take a walk in the garden
as the sun begins to shine you cover your face with a white umbrella
all dressed in white you take a look at the patterns
the way Emily once did with her patterns
the trees are well pruned, the flowers blooming in the right places
the grasses trimmed like manicured lawns of the garden in the parks of the city
you walk like my own queen you speak to yourself: there is something missing
there is still this emptiness: no one walks with you except your mumbling shadow.
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