Sweetest Night

Sweet moonlight, sweet chill of night, sweet clouds of night - handmade, tissue paper roses adorn gravestone rows on this baritone night, more fragrant and full more frail than bitter air. Why does winter winds stir our despair, wilting sweetest flowers here? Perhaps, silver-laced flakes of snow fall light upon lover's lips to remind souls of their resilience. What is more sweet than this? One, tender tear reflects the light upon dark creases of your cheek. Our eyes slow to rest on icy pond from the banks of sweet reminiscence. Its current shifts beneath to remind of spring. Unsheathed trees conceive poetic sounds. Their muse dances to melodies sweeter than love. Moonlight mingles merrily with dried leaves on the breeze. And the rotted ground ignores this whimsical whirling above. I can taste the bittersweet breath of earth's decay then close my eyes in dreams of sweet rebirth. This is the winter of our age.