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The Literary Groong - 09/04/2004

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	By Knarik O. Meneshian

	Though the weeds
	grow thorny,
	and spindly vines
	enmesh your tombstone,
	you are not forgotten.

	Today, we'll pull the weeds and vines,
	toss them to the winds,
	then plant red roses
	to adorn your epitaph.

	We'll sow a mantel
	of blue forget-me-nots
	to shade you from the sun,
	and trim it with orange marigolds--
	torches for a moonless night.

	And in the late, late autumn,
	when all has turned
	brittle and brown,
	you'll not be forgotten.

	The seeds will lay at your side
	     until the spring,
		  when they'll rise again
		       to bloom for you.

Knarik O. Meneshian is a published writer and a teacher. She is
married and lives in Glenview, Illinois with her family. Knarik taught
English in Jrashen, Armenia in 1991. Both she and her husband recently
returned from Armenia after doing volunteer work there for one year.
They taught English and Basic Computer in Gyumri, Armenia.

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