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Fresh Paint

Tags: love

Thirty years ago when grandma left 

the house had fresh paint

and the shutters were hung   

but the birds were quiet


Grandpa was playing his fiddle

with broken strings

and grandma was dressed in calico

as rain fell from heaven


But the birds were quiet

as grandma was laid to rest

in the field of stones as I cried

as grandpa knelt and prayed


And now my wife of many years   

has left the stage of life 

but not before she kissed my lips

and repeated our wedding vows


But if the weather permits

and the creeks don't rise

I will join her in Jericho

when the paint dries


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