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Rolls, Not Danish

We finally ran out of toilet paper. Faith had the great foresight of buying a whole warehouse full when she was five months ago and we never had to worry about it till now. I am reminded of Aiken's poem, for her hands have graced this house. Hands that have lined the kitchen drawers with Christmas wrapping paper. I just wanted to reminiscense her presence here, that the memory of her love for me will never run out.
<strong>M</strong>USIC I heard with you was more than music,
And bread I broke with you was more than bread;
Now that I am without you, all is desolate;
All that was once so beautiful is dead.
Your hands once touched this table and this silver,
And I have seen your fingers hold this glass.
These things do not remember you, belov├Ęd,
And yet your touch upon them will not pass.
For it was in my heart you moved among them,
And blessed them with your hands and with your eyes;
And in my heart they will remember always,–
They knew you once, O beautiful and wise.
-Conrad Aiken
I miss you so much.
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