Already I’ve forgotten what you wore

Sunday, standing by the fridge; it was black,

And your arm supported the broom you were

About to use; but I remember

The studied intensity about your brow and eyes

As with hand gracing

The air before your face you conducted

Schubert’s B flat Sonata played by Brendel

If there were reincarnation

Through a thousand lives I would remember

Those moments when I saw into 

The soul most lovable whom I most love. 

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