I am going to leave a child in an empty room.
She will have my body to look down on
at my death, when she will ask of the room
its address, the room silent,
stretching across the sky.
What comfort for her, my only expectation,
as in her infancy she climbs upon my lap?
My daughter, as I recede into the past,
I give you this
worth more than money,
more than a tip on the market:
keep strong;
prepare to live without me
as I am prepared.
The Future
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