I studied your yearbook,
Felt you there in a room – leading –
Head perched on neck adorned by a bob.
I trolled through thousands of newspapers.
your story shone just as your name, which
toppled to your demise
I walked to your tombstone,
A short measure from where the toppled was buried –
Your tombstone, adorned by a book
I felt the tombstone; a loose piece releases
and a sanguine color appears on my finger,
A fear between here and there
Walk with me, talk with me now