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Deborah and Christopher brought me dandelions,
Kenton brought me buttercups with summer on
their breath,
But Michael brought an autumn leaf, like lacy
filigree,
A wan leaf, a ghost leaf, beautiful as death.
Death in all loveliness, fragile and exquisite,
Who but he would choose it from all the blossoming
land?
Who but he would find it where it hid among the
flowers?
Death in all loveliness, he laid it in my hand.