She wilted For me to gather her up In the fields where lay her fallen dewdrops, Like her wings to shed a million feathers. She was crushed With the wind against her mountains, Her eyes against the storm. I drew beauty's faith close, As it gave me a chance To raise love, anew. Her love Born from a thousand poet's words, Aflame, and leaking To then be drinking Its touch on the pyre. Her face Dreams of being without pain. Her sadness Lasts only to fade. I wade in her mind, tonight, In the drunkenness Of a seeming million more To starve for.