The old coop was flown
The Rooster still paced the ground
Though he searched high and low
Not a trace of the hen could be found
3 years could wipe out every trace
yet every sight was in his seeing
What was the point of revisiting the geography
When every second of their history lived in his being
The Rooster crowed his last call
In the place where he had taken his first breath
As a man, and though it befitting
That the very ground that gave him life
Should witness his death
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