Skeletons are some whose doors are old and not guarded with well rounded locks
Keyed to open gates that wait but naught thought
Novem dost come about in the nine as now
But ponder I do the outcome
Guarded not upon a chain
Lost to time now and again
Tears that flowed were not in vain
As vanity does no good
Yet when all is said and done
The midnight skies do see the sun
Wars not lost and battles won
Will you think of me?
Gaze upon the key you see
Do look past to the teeth that be
Open the lock of eagle three
The art of communication
Sitting by the windowpane
I hope not for “November Rain”
Metal out not to feel the pain
Will you remember me?
What is is and
What will be will be
I leave it to chance
And wish upon three... ~ Maggie ~ September 3, 2009 @ 2:55 a.m. EST
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