Germinating far from The land Of Cleve-

Dresden holds
no weeping willows
bent in fair repose,
like those we often
kissed beneath,
with bliss that
curled our toes.
Now oceans lay
between us,
with their endless
restless flow,
like the pain
that washes
through my soul,
and always lets me know,
that empty ache
marks where I left
my heart in Ohio.

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