The gnats who'd beleaguered us had been all the wiser
Patient little carpenters trading their time for yours
We found your body, still warm in the night
A garden of afterlife abloom behind glass
A warning signal, a waning nocturne
Nothing lasts forever
You were gone in the night
And vanished by morning
Lined with the pages of history books
You outlived the clocks
Acting the elder in all that you taught
To shut stubborn doors
To practice prudence in filling your spaces
To tell time in temperatures
Preservation is a tricky thing
Preservation
