We are memory's preserved and not forgot
We become ghosts or spirit hosts...

Looking down at her dead face
I tie the ribbon in a foolish way...

A Dribble a Trickle a Dram a Splash
Flowing Down a Brae Past the Steading...

A robin sits on a frosty white window ledge
a boy is sliding down a hill on a shiny new sledge...

Here lies the dilapidated body of a phoenix
With its fiery blood flowing like lava...