Here you will find the Poem To D, Dead By Her Own Hand of poet Howard Nemerov
My dear, I wonder if before the end You ever thought about a children?s game? I?m sure you must have played it too?in which You ran along a narrow garden wall Pretending it to be a mountain ledge So steep a snowy darkness fell away On either side to deeps invisible; And when you felt your balance being lost You jumped because you feared to fall, and thought For only an instant: That was when I died. That was a life ago. And now you?ve gone, Who would no longer play the grown-ups? game Where, balanced on the ledge above the dark, You go on running and you don?t look down, Nor ever jump because you fear to fall.