have you seen how the deceased in warm repose, and as you have
him framed is also lovingly soft to the eye,
and even thought about the softness of stars and a heaven in the face
of him (who's named Ned and loved twice,
once by his children and once by me who saw him framed in my grief,
still able to be dear)? Well, I have and attest to
that time caught as I was between me and Ned seen in a casket place,
stood on a false mantel. It'd had done what I felt
was the most blessed, peaceful thing ever to do 'tween a face and life,
which was to comfort me. Not a subtle peace nor
that heavy taxing droning god-thing of one that always leads to a tomb
but a sweet as a funeral frame one (sweet, near!),
that'd gone ahead of me, thanks to Ned
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