This is not the poem
I meant to write today
Other words stood
here telling a story
About Melancthon the
reformer who,
I have read and see
no reason to doubt,
Was unaware that he
had died. (The dead,
Touched by his good
nature, lacked the heart
To tell him). He will
not hold it against me
That I have typed
over what I wrote. The sky
Is too pale right
now, too gray, too unseeing;
He might vanish in
its unyielding light.
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