Day 3 1/3/10
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Amids which shadows do you now tread,
In silence or in tears?
I mourn the which you had left,-
Another day of age Nineteen,-
And left by isolated means,
Under the thunderous sun;
While no soul gathered by you gasping breath,
I now stand over your grave
Though you may not have done so for me.
If souls exist then let it be
That ours should entwine
In this, this isolated plot,
Under the wilken tree.
No tombstone lays your head at rest
And farther do your remains sink;
But every Sunday, until I join your grace,
I shall take a clod of dirt
From underneath, and guide it with the wind.