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What if I had died one day?
Years ago,
In the cold, snowy, woods of my youth?
Every look, touch, taste, feel, love, loss, joy, and sorrow...
Never begotten.
Would another have spent them as well?
In my stead
To fill the tiny space reserved for My self?
Would I spark dim memory,
Lighting upon a frosted window-pain
Peering in
To the warm, dusty sitting-room of another's past?
What if I had died tomorrow?
Would I be another grey-faced shade,
Or have a warm seat by the fire?