Preservation

The gnats who'd beleaguered us had been all the wiser

Patient little carpenters trading their time for yours

We found your body, still warm in the night

A garden of afterlife abloom behind glass

A warning signal, a waning nocturne

Nothing lasts forever

You were gone in the night

And vanished by morning

Lined with the pages of history books

You outlived the clocks

Acting the elder in all that you taught

To shut stubborn doors

To practice prudence in filling your spaces

To tell time in temperatures

Preservation is a tricky thing

Preservation