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Lake Naomi, Pa.

March 1978

My loneliest hours

These are my loneliest hours,

the fire long since dead,

the sun still somewhere on the

other side of the Earth.

I do have the moon,

or I should say part of it,

and the stars are always faithful,

well, almost always.

I'd light the fire again,

but it's easier to see your

face in the dark.

The flames would only burn away

your memory.

and I've yet to see the fire

that could keep me as warm

as just my memories of you.