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Somewhere,i have left my life behind
As i write these weary lines;
Somehow, i am torn between a rhythm, and a rhyme.
S. L. Lee

EPITAPH

And now i speak no pain,
No sorrow
For now i know what is truth.
S. L. Lee

THE SCARECROW

The fields which once displayed
Golden cornstalks to the sun
Are covered with white;
Only the scarecrow remains
With his ice-worn checkered shirt
Blowing in the wind
Which carries the straw-stuffing
Across the field...
S. L. Lee