~ A tribute to John Lennon ~
He looked at life through polished glass,
refracting every tone and hue.
He took the time for time to pass,
imagining a longer view.
Befitting beauty, flowers die
as they, with early winter, meet.
Though wither comes, the loving eye
imagines blossoms ever sweet.
Eternal lyrical and young,
they must, at last, admire his means.
His sweetest song on every tongue
through all the seasons, all the scenes
will live forever. Though we cried--
imagine that he never died.
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