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remains as one

o tell me again
of a moment so dear
could cleave from my soul
the remembrance
of ache
would weave
of the losing
a tapestry fine
wrapped as it was
to the story began

blest be the grieving
til nothing is lost
but an emptiness
filled by a kiss long ago
wrench from my sorrows
the mercy of love
– to remain
when the earth
is gone cold

let not these arms
be deceived by the chill
this bed
by the falling apart
tempt not these lips
in silence
to squander –
the richness of story
held by the heart

. . .