Should I ever die, what would miss me and why?
Places, faces, things that dwell.
Creatures of heaven, beasts of hell?

Strangers passing in the street, see me lying at their feet.
Glancing as they move around,
the shadow lying on the ground.

Melt a man-shape in the ice, frozen solid in a trice,
blur as one a sculpture set,
solid ice, a mans regret.