I told them how my wife had fallen into sickness and to calling out her

name with questions on her tongue. We had always been so happy that at

first I wasn't sad because I thought my love could keep her strong. But I

never thought so wrongly for the fever fought too strongly and it seemed

she never fought at all. Soon she died, and I despaired upon the love seat

we had shared so many times on pleasant afternoons. I tried and tried to

understand why love itself could not command my true love fromhe comas of

her mind. Now, empty, open and foreboding, stretching out like darkened

clothing somehow stained with silence and with fear. Death had brought its

separation, giving me an education of a dull and slowly drifting day. I

filled my emptiness with sorrow, taking what I could not borrow fromhe

friends I finally drove away.