It was the first of February
A cold winter day
with brilliant sunlight chasing away
the gray doubts and questions
Could this really work?
Could we make a life together
in the bitter frigid North?
He cut his hair off the next day
I asked him why
He mumbled, ‘I can’t say’
and we went on
with a mystery that grew
like an octopus between us
things that came apart
we mended and repaired
But something underneath
was stalking our success
our home became divided
an invisible mess
We whirled around in the darkness
searching for our stability
we’d try to catch it
but then it would somehow slip
We bravely fought together
united we were so strong
though somehow the ground was shifting
and it wasn’t long
before we sensed a frantic helplessness
try to grab our dream and choke it
like rose petals
it scattered in th wind
I could not hold onto him for very long
it seemed no more than a day
He died in my arms in brilliant sun
and heat
surrounded us in mockery
there was so much left to say
He was like a moonbeam
fragile and yet bright
he slipped away into
the fog and night
Leave a Reply