mother daughter poem

i am in love with high far-seeing places
days endeared to every muse
we were not many
along the banks
at dawn, he said
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
in and of itself
she might have known it in the earlier spring
friend, whose smile has come to be
i make my shroud, but no one knows
of sun nor stars
why are the things that have no death
for truth, for love