close your silent, powdered wings.
Footfalls soften you to dust,
are you forgotten, lost?
Why didn't I come to see you die?
I couldn't hear your whispered cry.
A little body I lift up
and feeling nothing, let it drop.
A bramble-wood of sticks,
emotions spent, but my action is this:
I bend down and tend a grave.
Your unseen flutter, I see,
and live through thee.
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