Dawn
The sun crept from the hills along the roiled grey sky.
As the trees breathed deeply and looked to the pry.
Weaving through cries, the birds sang to their choir.
Through daylight flickering in the skew morning mire.
She walked along the edge of a streams moving shroud.
The light glazed and bled on her dress rich and proud.
in a valley so serene where goodness was spent.
From the dream where it droned in winters lament.
But her body moved onward into the story cast.
By memories and true love thrown into the past.
Speaking forlorn of a man both withered and lost
Of mud in the streets and floods on the frost.
By morning it was over and our hearts had been shaken.
Not to know until later just what had been taken.
Like embers in ash it had wilted and drowned.
It started with a shout, it left without a sound.
And his eyes wandered about, they looked to the crash.
And his body fell over in the green wild brash.
Light twinkled on the plants, it spoke from the cinder.
Again, and again, it grew from the tinder.
Crackle and hiss, stoke fire to the furnace.
Until his heart was warm and warmly in earnest.
Where love moved and it rested upon the life in his chest.
And relaxed as it closed her sallow eyes on his breast.
It moved as he moved into the hot pouring blaze.
By holding her hand and pulling into the phrase.
She burnt and he bruised and she tried to defend.
But 7 long years till their "together" would end.
Mid-day
The wind billowed around her dress, her veil and her gown
As his ears were closed and his eyes cast down.
Binary, basic, butch and bouquet.
As her feet move through the bones that littered the fray.
The body that cried cold and scattered in the spring.
Grow old, grow young and grow old once again.
And bray the sky pleading for a woman in love.
Receiving but rain and not answers from the angels above.
He cursed on their name and found comfort in the bellows.
Where tales like his can be found in its Fellows.
They bind, they break and they loiter in its seems.
All to find comfort in his ill gotten dreams.
Where it spreads like disease, where it climbs in the sound.
Until his thoughts and feelings grew heated in the crowd.
As everyone could see him as the narcissistic clown.
And no one would want for him, but be cruelly let down.
In home, he weltered and continued to persist.
As his friends would disappear into the cool white mist.
While his hands would reach out and ask for support.
Before the chains of his past bound him deftly and caught.
While he pleaded and asked to be left alone.
For him, people could not have hurt but be sown.
And the blaze at once ardent could not help now be cool.
Where the bray of his heart quieted, admitted he the fool.
Night
For the hangman did say as he tightened the noose.
"Ye be faithful, be kind and know who you choose.
Be bound by your honor, be bound by a ring."
He knew and he felt the harm he would bring.
And even at the end, He thought of her face.
He felt the lines in her hair, her movement and grace.
The words of hers that allowed him to sing.
And no clue of the future, that it would never bring.
We could not have known how much better or gaunt.
The dire, the coldness, the tired or the taut.
The pleasure, the playful, the tension in her smile.
And resisting the urge to stay more than a while.
But time moved on and it moved without thinking.
And the man who he was was no longer breathing.
No one who knew him, no one could believe.
What the ghost of a mean person in love could achieve.
The one who he was, was far too outspoken.
And who he is now, was never more open.
When moon light would shine and the mist would recede.
When strength was his motto and not covering his greed.
The ghost moved through death and learned how to be a man.
And his foes and his friends knew where he began.
He did business in town, he did work in the wing.
And never more did he feel, like a puppet on a string.
And now she is gone and he knows that's okay.
And he thinks about it again, and he hurts every day.
While struggling to sleep, when heart shadows cling.
He wrote a poem to remember a woman without wings.
