How do I contrive these words
To say that I’ve surmounted past a thousand summers
With my dream?
And then, only to fail, with her head atop my arms,
And depression as the moon, as my heart.
Like love to collapse, as it did,
Like the sun to turn black,
I hold only tears left for my consumption,
And a million faded photographs, etched in memory.
I am too worn to commemorate a shadow.
Her eyes, once folded against mine,
Her love, once drowned within my mind.
Her desires, sworn to be mine
In all meadows grand and divine.
But, with the dream, she did clash, against the bowels of time.
I was once within her,
Within her heart,
But, like the dream,
No true beat ever did start.
I am left with the hollowness
Of coming age.