How Can I Have a Fight with My Best Friend
Nicholas Gordon

And then shoots of grass come through the blackness;
Slowly love asserts itself again.
He calls, I cry, we go through days of whispers,
And fields once more grow lush in sun and rain.

Ah! but now I'm fearful of the mountain:
I walk by trembling, set for it to blow.
Life's beautiful, but also very painful;
I have the strength to love, now that I know.

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