#8
Farewell
Stealing away for one last kiss,
as night wrapped around the trees,
the sun sleeping behind the mountains;
your eyes glittered with the waking stars.
The brook's ramblings kept us company,
and the soft sounds of our feet falling
onto the pock ground littered with grass;
the air smelled of our secret.
And surely the trees would burn around us
in scorn - judgment from the rock itself,
we could not be; only in the black world
could we join hands, pull each other closer.
Only where the birds sang their song
of forests untouched by man's desire to build;
the flowers' bright garments were for their own
company alone, and we could pull close finally.
It had slinked away - the glow of people.
We stood, the moon staring at us,
looking through our clothes and past our eyes.
I knew I would never see you again.
::
It's probably not about who you think it is.