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Friends © The time grows short and such as these, My friends, like petals on the trees Fall softly, quietly in the mist, Their beauty ceasing to exist. I bide my time 'tween now and when I know that we will meet again But, as they stealthily do depart, Each one, a small part of my heart Does carry off with loving care To hold in trust 'til I appear (Hannah 1999 ©)