A slight bite of cold hides the moment
Of recognition – do the far trees cry
For what was done in a state of pain
And panic, which cannot be undone?
For some years, you were to sparkle
Like champagne bubbles, effervescent
And haloed with the variables of dreaming
Latent love, your sapphire eyes and hard
Won diamonds would light the way to
No hermitage but add subtle pleasures
To the discourse, sleepy, langerous, pure
Youthful hauteur, thrilled to never
Knowing want or anguish, now you see
Too much of the world and not enough,
Leaves fall on hypocrisy, tread lightly as
A shadow, the horror you feel is
Mythological, it grips you in its sodden
Arms too close.
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