4/4/14

O, THE DAWN

Under the veiled lashes
of heaven am I kept warm
at night under the mantle
of sleep. Hidden in the mur-
mur of that falling shadow
lies my love protected

To stop loving her would
be to shut my heart to all
the living women of earth
To make of them a false
memory never to manifest

Thus my real memory of her
becomes a living mirror
through which she may 
continue to haunt me all 
the remaining days of my life

Not all ghosts are borne
of death, but all deaths
bear ghosts