Threnody

​

He still swore, insistently,
that her words spun their webs thickly
'round his fumbling, thought-pricked fingers,
and in transient, golden sunshine
all the argent strands were glistening
while his silent tears fell lightly
to descend in silver torrents
in a moment of surrender.

And his life was real but tragic,
was a love story never written,
was a verdant forest ravaged
by an edge of careless metal,
was a kite once lofted upward
in the wind, somehow enduring
under savage winter's blow.

But his bright eyes faded, dwindled,
became pinpoints, became narrow
as his whole world was devoured
by her painful words, now swallowed,
in the cold and heckling silence
as it echoed through the night.

​

10/16/2011