I still remember that December
when Wally fell down the well
and what his dad said when they
thought him dead. I remember
the resin you used to bring the
strings of your violin alive, and
how I strived to shovel my love
onto your tiny plate from which
you ate very little. I remember how
the geese squawked and flew
through the dews of December as
I tried to fan our tiny ember of
love and how you urged me to try
again, while again never came again
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