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Flaxen Gold
I sit here on the mountain in the cold and bitter night.
I wait and hope for any sign that things will be alright.
My arms are cold from icy tears and from the lack of you.
I tried to save you from it all, but what was I to do?
I couldn't say a single word to keep you from the end.
All that's left are chintzy wigs and not a dime to spend.
I saw the color drain from you inside that bright, white room.
Now there is no bride-to-be and now I'm not a groom.
I stroke the strands of flaxen gold that once had been your hair.
I hold them close next to my heart, the pain too hard to bear.
I sit here on a mountain in the cold and bitter night.
I wait and hope for any sign that things will be alright.
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