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
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