Month: July 2020

I drink the red wine and you the white
while your shaggy-haired friend
takes her leave from your side;
sweet companion of the years
bids farewell one last time and
leaves the garden gate unguarded.

His callused hands
grip the pick axe
and he drives it
against the rock
to prise it from
the earth; it is not
an easy task – much
like the gleaning of
stubborn words
for the page.

Like a memory scratched
across the darkness, the
shooting star lit up his
heart and reminded him
of the great wonder
waiting to be revealed.

He falls behind the way of love, like
a sad song falls into the darkness;
he is lost then, looking for the hand
that promised never to fall.

She will learn a new way to live
without him; together they were
each other, their times bound by
heart and land; the land remains,
her heart is broken, in the ruins,
the seed of his life offers a small
shoot.

The night is empty, hollow of heart,
the thin crescent of the cold moon
hangs high above the scattered stars,
watches over the way of love, scratches
a memory across the darkness.

Behind the rain-latticed windows
the embers in the hearth emit a
faint, red glow, testament to the
fire that once burned bright and
warmed the room against the cold.

The crescent moon is cupped
to catch the rain-tears the sky
is crying; it sighs gently in the
hazy darkness, knowing the
glory of joy and the fullness
that will come again.