He remembered a poem she had read to him.  It was sad and strong.  It made him think she was the deepest woman who had ever walked the planet.  She hadn't written it, but she was special for having found it, for having realized its importance, and for having entrusted it to him.  How could she know it would come to pass?

Who was the author?  Davis? Dewey? Daily?  Daleney! That's it.  Not the Irish pronunciation, but the French. Day-len-nay.

He searched the shelves and found it. 

NEVER FADED

Silver moon blue thoughts
Long love now gone
Pale smiles all jumbled with fear
Eighty-eight has passed him by

He seems so proud and solemn
Now death is calling and he's scared
Of something he doesn't know
Without a face without a trace of time

How to explain it
How to contain yourself when everyone is gone
Almost empty but the face
All stained all surrendered
Just a mirror on the wall he saw

Trembling hand and heavy sigh
Not even a shadow of his time
Memories fading strength is restrained
How to explain it

Glancing to the moon again
Wondering if he'll see the eyes of the one
The one that comes inside him
Every time he breathes

Life fades away
He's going back and getting lost
Into the memories of love
That never left him

How to explain it
How to contain yourself when everyone is gone
Almost empty but the face
All stained all surrendered
Just a mirror on the wall he saw

Love is not fading and it never went away
The one stayed inside him
Until the end
Love will take you there somewhere

He laid the book down and closed his eyes.  How did she know?  She was deep.  She could drown a man as quick as the North Atlantic.  She was too deep for the Nazi's.  It took her a while but she saw through them like a drunk who promises, 'tomorrow will be different.'  She was deep.