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Ocelot's Poetry and Songs

	Counting
	Counting down the final hours, until our paths must part. The joy and warmth of loving you is stolen from my heart. A love of unimagined depth, a peace that feels so right is all but banished from my mind on this, our final night. My inward eyes begin to turn to all that lies ahead. And Happiness that should be mine is filled with grief instead.
Kevin Metcalf
1998