standing with, breathing
her hours on end –
always aware of
the seasons advance,
“one year” she’d
said and that seemed ok – then.
Brilliant and driven,
a star every way,
voice as a cello
with looks of a saint,
strong limbed and
strong willed with all loving heart,
holding her, drinking
her all seemed too right.
Agony still after
two years apart,
knowing she’s gone
and no more to be seen,
hearing her, seeing
her, feeling her heart,
“living”
is empty and pointless and mean.
standing with, breathing
her, often for hours –
always aware as
the seasons advance,
“ONE year” she’d
said; seemed ok in my trance.
Brilliant and driven,
a star without taint,
voice as a cello
with looks of a saint,
strong limbed and
strong willed with all loving heart,
holding her, drinking
her, joining her art.
Agony still after
two years apart,
hearing her, seeing
her, feeling her heart,
knowing she’s gone
and no more to be seen,
“living”
is empty and pointless and mean.