Mesmerized by mortal wounds
and dressing of the night
sitting by the one he loved
our poet weeps and writes…

If I could have just one more smile
I’d frame it in the sky
light the earth with colored laughs
as angels tarry by

If I could have just one more word
to sanctify my heart
cast my soul in balmy hue
as dirges rip apart

But wait, what’s this?
ever creeping from the mist?

As my hand moves o’er your coffin
I can clearly feel
vernal flushings of your life-breath
wafting through its seal

The beat of heart is next to reach
my eager, famished ears
older souls lie in death’s garden
buried in their years

You’re too young to consecrate
those chambers of the deep
T’was never meant for youth to pass
and waltz with those beneath

My grimace cleaves upon my face
my lungs expand, then emanate

“It isn’t fair!” I scream to heaven
four black suits, now make it seven
carry me from out the room
as my dear angel meets her doom

“Your friend is dead, in her death bed”
“You’re wrong, you see, she called to me”
“Alright, it’s time for you to leave,
you’re chewing madly on your sleeve.”

“Oh you just wait, I’ll prove my case
come now with me, look at her face!”

The cavalcade adjourns its room
to confiscate and seal her tomb
yet as they march up to the dead
the coffin empty, just a bed!

“What’s this?” the burly fellows say
as our dear poet melts away
and in the coffin lies a rose
which formerly adorned her toes

The fallacies of death implore
the fragrance of eternal shore!

Those servants of the grimmest night
searched up and down death’s parlor
for remnants of the one he loved,
the one that angels harbor

N’er again was poet seen
nor her whom he was fond
though legend says when winter comes
they dance upon the pond.