This page last updated on 01/26/2019.

Copyright © 2001-2019 by Russ Meyer

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars,
Like petals from a rose,
When suddenly across the June
A wind with fingers goes.
They perished in the seamless grass, --
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.

            - Emily Dickinson