The Linnet's Wings Summer 2014 | Page 69

Resting on his breast. Resting in his grave. As close as a wife. More distant than a slave. To love better the grace-lost world, he loved where friendship blessed. But those who thought they loved him more broke heart, and faith, and rest. Altar sanctified with dust. Pious plan confounded. Heart speaks to heart in the damp earth compounded.