patterns on her buttoned blouse
as to gemstones on his crown
glistening gold intrinsic
as to such history profound

he walks through crowds on narrow red
her days spent on narrow trains
libraries full of lessons
her journals filled with tattered pain.

stands on her doorstep moments many
his key stored still beneath the jade
while her footsteps echo corridors
and his love is truly trade

their bedsheets made of cotton too
moon full through window glass
held within the arms of others
two ghosts of someday's past