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.
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
A sanguine color appears on my finger,
A fear between here and there
Walk with me, talk with me now