Love's Funeral
Lilac gently pressed on a page,
Soft kisses remain like whispers.
Time dwells as wine doth age.
In the dusting of springtime,
love`s promises lie eternal;
yet somewhere inside sorrow stirs.
Ever present as before,
ashes of the past are what remain.
Were this cup of mine not full,
chaos would pour out from the core.
The sweet, scented thoughts of yesterday
linger as they burn, etched in soul;
a field of graves where love doth lay,
forevermore silent, yet not slain.
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