The Stable Grace

The sensible grief,
That turned upon a leaf,
Never clung to the tree,
For the world to see.

Your lonely heart, departs,
From the soul, of me.

I saw, the mark on your face,
Revealing sadness, in place.

I view, the sights you saw,
Of every, meager flaw.

Here, the moon raises, to a peak,
To draw the curves, of your form.
I was right, when I asked,
“When, will I become forlorn?”

Your dress, of rich blues,
Blooms my soul, brand new.
The Earth, knew,
How love, grew.

The empty, slender form,
Of which I, hold dearly,
Twas’ death, that parted love,
From my gray heart, freely.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s