I
The night descends quickly
its purpose tearing through my mind
A picture of once unspeakable beauty
now marred and maligned
That blossoming withered hope
an empty bed nurses tenderly
What was joyous, righteous, set me free
no more than bitter memory
Her name and form are no more
for she will not abide
To be present and presence still
she stirs as with the tide
Her image undulates not grasped
from in to out of view
To seize, perceive, but to clasp
a name to put to you