Failed Villanelle

Memories swirl down rivers like foam My thoughts are sewing up the seams, And life like leaves melts into silent loam. Wolf hearts like ours know only how to roam, Lone souls, breaker tossed, cling to the beam, Of a thing, in a dream, called home. Build a tomb, a gilt and effervescent dome, To remind yourself with the gleam, That life like leaves melts into silent loam. Fate is fluid, not scratched in an ancient tome, We dream, carried down the Styx’s stream, Of a thing, in a dream, called home. Forget for now that you’re alone, There is no joy in such a theme, Life like leaves melts into silent loam, Like a thing, in a dream, called home.