Where is your final town, your resting place?
And is Gene Davis there as well, and
Does he take his coffee strong? 
	
As the days roll by
Do you try to fill the silence
Reminiscing of moments when pastels bled together?

Or is it mostly regret
That boysenberry and maroon never played 
As well as they should have?

That you couldn’t fall in love
With the way the iris of a forget me not 
Brushes up against the strength of an evergreen--

Overlooked her soul, Gene
Never caught the undertones in the light--
Only found beauty at the end. 

The last time she shook
There was movement in the white,
And smoothness in the bronze of the church bells.