I couldn't see the beauty
in our worn out portrait...

Winds hardly pass
through the gaps of the window...

I find you in storms I fight to weather
in traps of poetry I uncover...

I grieve
over the map that you lost...

The hills were steep,
do not push your fragile ankles up there...

Not in the towns of the sun
where people chatter and constellate...

I won't ask why the land woke up barren
after a season of suns...

It consumes everyone's laughter,
even the melodies of joyous music...

A grove of your name
had carpeted my way...

How to unload weight
from a heavy heart...

Hope ripples
below the river banks...

...but I was never a dreamer
until you puffed into me...