LUEDECKE-WELCH Peter

Time does not bring relief;

you all have lied.

Who told me time,

would ease my pain?

I miss him in the weeping

of the rain,

I miss him at the shrinking

of the tide.

The old snow melts

from every mountainside,

And last years leaves

are made in every lane.

Yet that years bitter love

must still remain.

Full in my thoughts,

Heaped on my tired heart.

My love remains,

My perfect son.

Love from your little Vouve