The ghosts have gathered at her bedside,
Speaking with leather-bound tongue,
Quiet you, your flesh so fine,
What more have you,
To long for?

Evening enters early now, under miles of cloudy skies,
Blue eyes a silent vigil, to rain falling to the ground.

Water falling steady, within its millennial sound,
In these darkened times I bear witness to it's cry.

Far away on a cold mountain, a darkened road slants steep,
In rainy clouds is a village, where people rest their feet.

I stop to smell deep of the dampened maple wood
Whose frosted leaves are redder than a month of summer flowers.

By my first strange and fatal view
By my desires which then did ensue
By my long starving hopes, that remorse
Coerced my words with a persuasive force
Whose beauty of fall now surge and then feed
Now trapped within the silence of leaves.

I view you move, a luxurious dance
on paper the pen, has merged with my hand
I see your vivid, yet blurred velocity
The desk where I sit, now creaky and cramped

I see your languid, nubile sensuality
My eyes two windows, of a lover’s glance
I see your delicate, curves of simplicity
Feet once mobile, now rooted they stand

I see you gathering, spring in your arms
My vision awash, thoughts colliding but soft
I see your effortless, beauty take flight
Now quieted mind,

What now should I long for,
In life?