(...)

(…)

If it came from a bouquet,
There would be nothing for me to say.
And you never looked more beautiful
Than when you left me with my soul.

There was a storm on a day of suns,
The rays could have been anyone’s.
And you told me to pretend you’d died
If it was easier to leave your side.

We never ran out in the rain,
And I’ll never taste the drops again.
And the clouds that passed away on high
Were like little castles in the sky.

I cried for—I do not know how long,
Listening to what might have been a song
That sounded like your voice in a grave:
Like a life that I could never save.

A bouquet may have dwindled here,
I watch as the petals disappear
They have been yours in the stars
In a sky whose prayers all were ours.

And you never looked so dear to me,
Than when I could no longer see
You in more than memory
With all that was not meant to be.

© 2021 Marten Hoyle