Some subtle breeze
crosses my cheek,
fading a tear –
dragged like a sailboat
to its last destination
on a way to nowhere.
One place of frozen flesh,
quivers at a hint of warmth,
while my eyes flash
at viewing a dusty path
lined with petals,
even on either side.
I have felt your presence
in glaring silhouettes,
among lighthouses
I held onto as hope, like a child
burying its dreaming face
into clouds,
for I desired more
after that afterword,
after that calm farewell,
where a hand did more to wave
than to take,
on that ocean of burials.
I had to let your fire diminish
with that lighthouse’s flare.
I had to let hope silence its crawl,
while those petals wilted
from more breezes, more gusts
burning spring into flakes of dust.
Modern Romanticism 