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I love abandoned churches

become trees and grass.

I once died from the village -

in the 2000s, in winter,

where there is not only a church but a store

there wasn’t, but there was a house and a garden,

where the red rowan tree was silent,

frozen with bells into the sunset.

and there were apple trees there too

with our names without us,

but my name was different then,

than now.