They lie beneath this cold Earth, Yards yet years apart, She who will ever be Nineteen, He who filled half my adult life. I will never see the woman she could have been, Nor share with him the fruits of our labours, But life goes on, if only for a short while,
I feel the same. Very poignant poem. If no progeny, is that DNA lost? The body is gone, the memory lives on for us, and the soul lives on for them.