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In loving memory of Elizabeth and Edward

Somehow I cannot let it go yet,
funeral though it is,
Let it remain back there
on its nail suspended,
With pink, blue, yellow, all
blanch'd, and the white now gray and ashy,
One wither'd rose put years ago for thee,
dear friend;
But I do not forget thee.
Hast thou then faded?
Is the odor exhaled?
Are the colors, vitalities, dead?
No, while memories subtly play –
the past vivid as ever;
Thy smile, eyes, face, calm, silent,
loving as ever:
So let the wreath hang still awhile
within my eye-reach,
It is not yet dead to me, nor even pallid.

Love always and forever,
your daughter Natalie Edwina

"The Pallid Wreath" Walt Whitman

As published in Winnipeg Free Press on Jul 03, 2021

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