When you have heard the whistle blow
Begins its long silence perhaps you will
Nevers hear it again; so it is with with all
Our precious moments they live in our
Long goodby  that they may be reborn

Till then  sweet nepenthe that makes not
The memory but as one we have yet  to
Know. nor  shall I ever love you more

In our broken places we are made stronger

For Papa   and the one tat got away