And so she rose
Like vapor,
And disappeared just as fast.
Were her phoenix shape to return
To Earth,
She could not have been less.
After a year
Or ten, surely,
There are just worms,

But the headstone is where They return to pray,
To bring the babes named for the remains,
And the grave- they call her final resting place.
So how to grieve when she is lost?
To a classroom or a hospital,
Where are her bones?
Has she yet turned to dust?
Will her bed be in a cabinet of glass?