Page 439
By Jack Joseph Smith
Forget Me Not
From the beginning many have seen the end
When the Sun goes across the Moon
We make comfort in become just that
The first word in a poem should be a thought
But that is impossible when you have to lead,
let alone when you trun and walk away
into correct silence like dining
without drinking
True like loving being white
That spit won't explain
I did not think for a second
in the current when I said
Ilove you