A lock of hair for them to find
When I’ll have perished;
But they will pay a never-mind
To what I’ve cherished.
So, fragile curl, be not dismayed,
For we will walk together down the grade;
And on that day I leave this sand-hill blown by strife
I shall bless the curl of her who might have shared
my life.
by Ray Romine Sunday, January 7, 1945
