OUR LOSS CAN NEVER BE FOUND Life lines mapped with blackened ink Her brief time gone in a single blink The hand of our Molly recorded on card She left our world, this has been hard Knowing our loss can never be found When the print of her hand is left above ground A symbol of sorrow, as we are bereft Three years gone, an inconceivable theft Her hand now holding a thousand hearts that rock An army of hands now printed on cloth. Her body has flown, her spirit abounds She came through us both without making a sound To show us all in her own special way That anything lost will be found some other day. By Claire Mear 12th August 2016
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MEARFESTBrian & Claire Mear pride themselves on putting on a good show. Photography is Claire's passion, only the finest collection of images will be added here by the best photographers. ARCHIVES
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