
John I tried to read your name. John, I think, died 1663, aged one hundred. Where you as stubborn as your stone? Did you carve your name on the world as deeply as the letters that record your passing from our story? I found you by chance, in a corner of a rural graveyard, forgotten, perhaps, all those years between us. How many footsteps did you form? How many lives connect with you? I touched your grave as I passed… …thanked you for our moment. Derek Ross
I like this very much, particuarly the last two lines!!
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Agreed – it’s all very nice, but the last two lines are quite beautiful.
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Praise deed, thank you. 👍
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Thanks Liz. Couldn’t believe this guy lived to 100 in those days and how well preserved his gravestone was.
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You’re welcome, Derek. You’re right on both counts!
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Good one 🤔
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Well spotted Derek and inspirational words.
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Very nice.
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