Warm summer sun,
Shine kindly here.
Warm southern wind,
Blow softly here.
Green sod above,
Lie light, lie light,
Good night, dear heart,
Good night, good night.For the longest time I thought that poem was by Mark Twain. He used it as an epitaph on his daughter's tombstone. Didn't realize till I was looking for it one time to say at a funeral that
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Things happened, this last time I went home. People died because of my arrogance and my mistakes.
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You should be resting, Ianto.
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Thank you but I have the job and should be putting forth some sort of recompense for my upkeep. It's only proper. Since there are no Daleks to beat up on instead
[ooc: Strikes not there, :)]
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Well, I'm certain whatever you decide to contribute will be appreciated. Where did you find employment, if I may ask?
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I'm ... actually I'm not really certain. It's with someone I knew before I left the City. Mechanical work, good for the hands.
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I'm all right.
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