The bridge soon to be crossed

As near the lake, I cast a stone
and stand and watch it bounce  
 duck's and drakes, squawk in overtones  
skimming, its short flight pronounced  
settled, leave the self so all alone  
short term, that came all unannounced  
as life, will have its ups and downs  
each ripple ebbing, slowly drown.  
 
In mourning, standing on the bridge  
hear the water trickle past  
 be with it, its dark seeing images  
who threw the die? that you were cast  
 stolen time, that we were pledged  
my soul flies, sombre, at half mast  
fair maiden, taken so, and carried off  
in death so cold, as snow so soft.  
 
 So waxed and whitened, loving paled away  
carved angels weep, so insincere  
 stand I, beside a clod so freshly laid  
the roses broken stem, rising sap so disappeared,  
recall all joy, before decay  
each vernal day, the never year  
wilting early, as the headstones tilt  
the ground below my feet, it feels no guilt.  
 
As youth's champagne,  bubbles rising in the glass  
empty, the tall flute of my lament  
 lying now in circumstances caveat  
empty dregs, my life of that ferment  
rising as a ghosts in ethereal contact  
clay hold the emptiness, and not repent  
our joy would ever multiply  
now empathy, it's mask, my eventide.  
 
 Shadows of our spirit's so divorced  
holding grief, a vacuous diamond ring  
death dealt a final intercourse  
the heat of love and its being  
as the hearse, drawn by the horse  
the dead march, echo's hovering  
till we meet again, in a last kiss  
 the heart, in truth, never could dismiss.