down the road around the hill past the dust and railroad tracks where the dark woods whisper she is gone where the water runs unseen faded leaves are rustling the deadfall snapping she is gone a carpet of pine needles spreads to the burying ground petals scatter seasons change she is dust she is no more only the ground remembers she is dust she is no more this is the hour of lead remembered if outlived as freezing persons recollect the snow first chill then stupor then the letting go 