Everything written has come to pass if fated such, I may not wake up tomorrow when the morning opens its lavender eyes no time alas, or joy I could borrow who stands to lose, to miss, to shed tears for me, my sadness lifelong, my sorrow What lives did I live, what time was mine what people say after I go that I was a verdant springtime joy and now there are fresher fields to sow I fade out from memories and conversations