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Echoes

Echoes of empty houses, empty rooms,
Empty caravans, empty tables, empty stables,
The extreme void of their high spirited appeal,
Eventually we all have to leave,
Life is a thief of happiness, peace and love,
The fluttering of an innocent white dove,
My two dear friends, a long time up above,
In their celestial palace,
Surrounded by God's unconditional, never-ending love,
Snatched from the middle rung,
No time for the end of the ballad to be sung.

Amongst chapters of hard graft, on a primitive raft,
Heading for the turbulent rapids,
Love sent in a package, with possible breakage,
Strings attached, we all just matched,
Never saw any need to be patched,
Abundance of a feast, glorious with no defeat,
Repeat of our spinning world,
Sometimes winning, when everything rhymed,
Races at different paces,
Two beautiful faces, fading with the lullaby,
A sigh like the wind whistling,
Through the knarled branches of an old oak tree.

They are free immersed with fun, days of sun,
With character rich, steeped in zest,
That is their legacy,
The weeping willow stands forlorn, as we still mourn,
For the loss of two captivating souls,
Soaked in the sweet scent of forget-me not's,
Amongst the saints, angels, sound of holy bells,
Reverberating across this green isle,
An oasis in our heart's thirsty desert sand.

Band, land, musical, whimsical,
Passion, fashion, with a bright red sash,
Red for danger, like a lone ranger without ammunition,
Red for sensation, striving for ambition,
Life lived fast,
All that is left is the haunting echoes of their splendid past.

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