neglected and alone.
The name and date are chisled out
on polished marbled stone.
It is too late to morn.
You did not know that I exist.
You died and I was born.
in flesh, in blood,in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
entirely not our own.
one hundred years ago.
Speads out among the ones you left
who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you knew.
That someday I would find this spot,
and come to visit you.
