Modern Romanticism

Moonrise, quick to enfeeble
the sight of mine, sent through her
one final time in the haze.
A last walk through the clock
striking the minute, the hour, of days
spent seeing me in her light.
A depressed gesture sends me - 

to the lifeless tragedy buried here
in these arms, within the fear.
One Autumn leaf descends into the pile,
on the path being crossed, upon the mile
where emptiness grows regrets.

Your eyes, still open
to the cast gaze of mine.
Your face, still as beautiful
as the sunrise engulfed in flame.
I call you by name, - 

to recapture what is plentiful.

One final kiss to the cheeks,
one pressed to the tundra.

One that never leaves, one that stays
to print your features in the earth.
Without necessity to toil,
with grateful flowers for a grave, -

I see you carved where love gives birth.