Bleached out are all my witless vanities in a blink;
Repose, I wordlessly in the moth-eaten coffin and think.
Echoing her name from the elite memories, I have;
Pine I, the balmy touch and warmth of aroha she gave.
Oh asterisks! Bedim your glint, for eyes gestates my soulful moon;
Hither descends the angel of mine, aah…my life’s paragon boon.
Autumns she, as the maiden ray of sun and departs as the last rain;
Bequeathing my desolate heart unquenchable, all panting in pain.
Robs she, the bereft and sterile soil from my rusted grave;
Aflame in the acerbic quagmire of aloneness, and aggrieve.
Spited she, kneels in orisons and hollow handed, walks off;
Finding operose, the bracing stores of intimacy, to throw off.
Oh God, stream your grace, afford me a lone breath of life;
Know you not, knots of love are insubordinate to Death’s knife?
Engrossed in the absolute foolery of winning life’s bootless race;
Treasured salty pelts on her sugared cheeks, I forgot to erase.
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