For longings warmed by tepid suns (brief lusts that animated clay), for passions wilted at the bud and skies grown desolate and grey, for stars that fell from tinseled heights and mountains bleak and scarred and lone, for seas reflecting distant suns and weeds that thrive where seeds were sown, for waltzes ending in a hush, for rhymes that fade as pages close, for flamesβ exhausted, drifting ash, and petals falling from the rose, ... I raise my cup before I drink, saluting ghosts of loves long dead, and silently propose a toastβ to joys set free, and those I fled.
Originally published by Contemporary Rhyme. Keywords/Tags: toast, death, time, passages, dreams, clay, flesh, ash, sun, sunset, age, grave, end