Innocence was what fell in the dust
as you carved white stones.
What was to be lost has been lost.
Left behind is what was to remain,
and you are again to stand alone.
Knows the earth of Marygreen:
You are still the little tyke
that fed the birds in the field.
Pity yourself not, little Jude.
The stone to be laid above you
is yet to be carved.