Higher and higher my hand is pushing
Swinging, laughing leaving all worries
The green grass
Music
Cobbled street indeed
I remember the confetti
The white dress
The flowers in the hands
Then coming
In the dead brain cells
Hands hurting, shouting, shivering
Slamming
Sprinklers again, slowly rising
Sunsets and sunbeam.
Casket closed.
Sent from my iPhone
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