This poem narrates the story of an unsung relative whose life was short and uneventful.

Why,sister, did you bow out
in such a frenzied haste,
turning upside down your lit candle
in this breezy environment
instead of jealously guarding it
in your enclosed palms?

Why, Davie,did you shy out
in such a hurried haste,
stifling in its infancy
the applause reserved for your role
that was never played?

Tell me something:
does it bother you,
whenever you reflect upon it
that you planted no seed
in your large,unweeded garden?
That the crown returned unworn?
That you partook in a dream
that was bereft of fecundity?

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