After the memorial service
They spoke many words of beauty, sorrow, grace.
Yes.
But in the end they shook the dry leaves from your tree,
leaves left stirring in the crumbling wind.
Now see your barren branches stark upon the sky,
defenseless against time and chance.
And when at home I brought out your books they told me to take,
they were dusted by a haunting of smoke.
A taste... Check them out...
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