After the morning,
they berry her.
Unbeknownst to everyone,
sadness is never aloud,
as the flour gets laid beside her.
The grater
commits serial to cheeses
as our time disappears into nothingness.
No one realized
the thyme that went missing.
As her suites get covered in mold,
and her coarse lavender perfume
disappears forever,
the root of the tree
along the course of steps
manages to steal itself.
As forever,
she became gone.
“I love ewe,”
were her last words.
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