on the advent of my death
the chaplain will read my name
to the sea in helwys hall 
brimming with bright-eyed youths
yearning for the promise of tomorrow
as the summer breeze flits
through wide-open panes

she will likely pronounce it wrong
snagging on incorrectly stressed syllables
urged on by the sweltering heat
from bodies pressed too-tightly together
a faceless name read to a yawning crowd
who once sat in their place
grappling with her own mortality.