A Poetess Who Had Died Young Of

Now, Even More Than The Evening Before, He Could Think Of No One With Whom To Compare Her. She Had Become Absolute, Beyond Comparison. She Had Become Decision And Fate.

A Secret, If It's Kept, Can Be Sweet And Comforting, But Once It Leaks Out It Can Turn On You With A Vengeance.

The Snow On The Distant Mountains Was Soft And Creamy, As If Veiled In A Faint Smoke.

The Train Came Out Of The Long Tunnel Into The Snow Country.

But, Drawn To Her At That Moment, He Felt A Quiet Like The Voice Of The Rain Flow Over Him. He Knew Well Enough That For Her It Was In Fact No Waste Of Effort, But Somehow The Final Determination That It Was Had The Effect Of Distilling And Purifying The Woman's Existence.