The sky turns different colors,
There is no warning about when or why it happens.
It's blue then black in a matter of moments.
It reminds me of love.
One second everyone is writing stories of there magic that was there
A day later the fire pit is filled with empty pages of a story that could of been.

Cry me a river they say
if only they knew
that tears are not what create the rivers
but the emotions
that become from their journey

The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.

The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.