It lingers in the fridge,
covered in gravy...

In dark of night I squint my eyes,
lonesome tears are recognized...

Etched in winter drippings
of a foggy frost...

Soft,
snowfall...

Every sigh the Moon makes
is another moment I have fallen...

A woman in love never thinks of death
for her soulmate will be hers, always and forever...

Perennial remains, left
scattered across a whispering...

Her limbs lay broken
upon a summer sand...

She adorns a gentle swagger,
as her hips dance under a moonlit...

Poetry remains
embedded within my thoughts...

Death is the calling of a childhood friend
or a neighbors father, chilling sound...

Egg shells dance in dandelion ponds
filled with germinating tadpoles and ant horses...