He Is Gone

The blue sky turns into a gloriously red sunset bathing the night in its glow, rivers flowing like a semi sweet Bordeaux, as I sit here staring, waiting for my beau, it was not meant to be he is gone now, he was my north, my south, my east and west but now his soul’s put to rest. Under that grand majestic oak he lays, while the leaves wrestle with each other. The quiet of night is so eerie, nothing can be heard but the crops rippling in the breeze. The night so quiet I cannot bear the thought of my life with so much despair. I wish he was here, sharing this summer’s night air. *7/31/15