You can't quite step through walls yet,

but your eyes seem to see things far away

that I can't comprehend-those answers

we all seek perhaps.

.

The wicks in your eyes grow small,

being short of oil to feed the flame.

The voice that once boomed with life

now only whispers the daily news.

.

My love, I deny but my heart knows

you are fading into transparency

and I want to feel flesh that bounces

with lust and reddens with passion.

.

Breathe hearty and sure again to support

the laughter we've known for fifty five summers.

.My love, fill in your essence again-how foolish of me-

you don't have the strength to lift a butterfly.

.

Your flame fkickers and sputters.

How cruel time is-how great the toll

that burns a soul-that burns a soul.

04/04/2007

Posted on 04/05/2007
Copyright © 2025 Jane E Pearce