I was told, by a different man, the story of him getting lost in the woods, with a psychologist from match.com
And a lady came by East Coast Rail, to tell the story of putting the young couple, on their honeymoon, into single beds
Earlier, by the fire, old photographs were browsed, from the black-and-white, and sepia-tone archives
The few were gathered, before you spoke carefully chosen words, of love, and care; you told of a life well lived
I myself had a moment, on leaving the shopping centre, where I had left you, so that you might catch your own train, half way home
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