A garden framed in wood; our first meeting
Place. The rhythm of our lives intertwined
Like copper wires in the universe’s long
Circuit of love. Now our garden sits dead,
A barren memorial to the pain
That you endured, my beautiful goldfish.
How lucky it was, that our paths crossed, and
We were able to make memories of
Such love. I’ve made a display of crowns (of
The garden’s plants), on your grave. I love you
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