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Flowers left for Henry  Kruwell
Dear Ancestor Your tombstone stands among the rest; neglected and alone The name and date are chiseled out on polished, marbled stone It reaches out to all who care It is too late to mourn You did not know that I exist You died and I was born. Yet each of us are cells of you in flesh, in blood, in bone. Our blood contracts and beats a pulse entirely not our own. Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago Spreads out among the ones you left who would have loved you so. I wonder if you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew That someday I would find this spot, and come to visit you. Author -Unknown
- Wayne Osborne a gg-grandson of yours.
 Added: Sep. 28, 2008

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