Heredity Of Nurseries Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I will think of you until the
Day I die,
And not one thing but the kind ocean
Eulogizes my death-
And cormorants lace the unbroken sky;
And yellow buses keep returning-
And you are buried with
Your fine husband-
Buried with your nose in
The crèche of his armpit:
Oh lucky man;
And right now
Somewhere in Texas,
Horribly disfigured-
I am in ancient love;
But you can be sure underneath the
Highest peaks of your cumulous sky,
I will think of you until
The day I die.