She lived a golden life.
Her years were rich as anyone's, though she died young.
No one lived more, was more alive than her.
Her life was large enough to hold our tears.
She had a smile you'd see a mile away.
She took to life like a kid in a candy store.
She was the best of us, and something more;
But she ran out of luck, and died one day.
What difference does it make when we are gone
How long we live, or when, like her, we fall,
As if life were a mountain we must climb?
Each moment is eternity, sublime
And perfect, like the memory of a song
We know so well one note contains it all.
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