Is it the gulf of the night
that the wheezing winds
chafe at this separation?

now all events are memories
streaming in with the moonlight

walks past the frost-bitten lake
the snow, the snow, that
late winter night

I know there is a heaven
I felt its beat on my lips
pressed to your *****
arms wrapped in silken hair

there was no tomorrow.
a lone fall in the distant wood
all the trapping of time

I see you hair spread across the sky
on pensive nights
overcast in agony

there is no chocolate in the morning shop
no river bending
to measure your dimples out
no swan in our reed ridden lakes
unending summer now

and I long for the distant noon bell
song of the autumn shells
or the pall of looming life
wrapped in layers of the night
streaming past the crescent lights