The bodied lilly fires in ashing haze and from her amber embers I devolve, into a weeping candle - churning maize; an orb at night, alight to my absolve.
Remorse suffused with jasmine glazes woe as moonlight trailings battle hue my grief for left no infant child to mirror so - my lover's petals, ceasing lines of leaf.
Nor have, I flare to scribe a marbled ode that could so hymn or bear my love that shared nor stone as cold as grey, be just; that owed the flaming satin, fate had not so spared.
Then let this writ incense - her newly form until my vigil dims; to death's reform.