Radiant Soul

A genuine soul sits on a bench,

Looking out by the bay,

An old grey man,

With a beard that leads up to where his hair began,

Wearing a big brown trench coat,

And there next to him,

Lays an urn and a note,

With his face plastered grim,

Picking it up after a moment of silence,

Placing it back down in defiance,

But life exists in identity,

No one is forgotten as long as there in your memory.

By: Ethan Mc Closkey

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