I dreamt last night that I was alone
and people were burning my family.
My father and grandfather dead and burned
and the only things left
were a speech and a song 
and a tritrimium clock to cry by. 
My grandfather died and the song was sung 
by only me and three boys.
Four untrained voices sang my lament.
No one else seemed to care.
And someone else, no friend of mine,
took my rightful place as granddaughter
and burned my grandpa's things
while I tried to scream in anguish.