Shadows on hills,
day’s end.
A persimmon sun sets
in the bosom of a verdant valley,
and the evening star stares
like a curious child at the
lone man walking the road
to darkness.
Your absence is cold space
beside me on
this solitary
twilight stroll.
I miss the glimmer
of your starry eyes.
I miss the skipped beat of your
excited heart.
I miss the anchoring tenderness
of your embrace.
I miss melting into
your kisses.
Your memory fades like a painting,
a haunting last note of a lilting melody,
a classic fallen from grace.
And once more, I’m reminded:
Love will not reciprocate what
she requires to live.
Beyond Panic 