Loss
by Henry Burt Stevens
6/23/2004

 "when I no longer remember the sweet sounds
 where will they be?"......From the poem "Bill Maisel"

Human's constant condition
is as a candle flame
when the candle burns completely-
there is no candle, flame or loss.

Like a single stowaway
on a ship at sea
who falls overboard
and drowns unknown.

Death once smelled
is unforgettable
by those who smelled-
unknown by those who haven't.

Erasure learned early
salves memory's pain
till maturity finds
stronger clinics.

Any ignorance
is as forgotten-
they become equals-
both lose loss.

An anonymous giver
gives a high school-
is it better if the donor's
name is large upon the door?

Loss is as finite
as memory-
both frail
both terminal.

 Video