To Love What Is Lost
What is life but his heart ever so enticed,
His creation from the bees made such fresh honey.
Lips blazen with Autumn’s warmth and its spice,
In I breathe the wine that eminates sweet.
Solace as we lay through tangled limbs,
His eyes withhold the flower and its thorns.
Set ablaze my hearth the fire within,
In the familiar hums of a house untorn.
But the quiet was soon to be unbecoming,
Can't death be failure against our defiance.
I wait for my bones to stop their shaking,
I watch the world and all of its silence.
Such sweet memories that remain in dreams,
I dare not be stolen ever from me.