Late evening, in the sunset
by the white gate,
and leaning on some other railings painted blue
I saw her yet again,
her eyes focused on the twilit meadow,
last time by the river,
she was one of the few that men marry and stay with
year after year after year, in love.
From out the shadows
I watched her watching the swallows
swooping in low flight, and wondered
where is my love again tonight.
A ring of daisies
entangled in her hair
and round her waist a rope of yellow buttercups,
how could I leave, where could I go
for in that dim-lit moment I wished to be in her,
to lose myself in her,
take up my widowers weeds and die in her.
Two forms, one soul
in the late evening sunset, by the white gate,
leaning on some other railings painted blue.