The first language was loss, the second sorrow, 

                      this is the last, then

   C. K. Williams, "Ignorance"

These years later no more than part of the dream

Of her whose body he remembers but not her face,

Memories still come to be entered into now but seem

These years later no more than part of the dream.

Though then, he thinks, surely I noticed the gleam

In her eyes, her laugh, loved with both passion and grace,

These years later no more than part of the dream

Of her whose body he remembers but not her face.