Timeless we are when
the world seems so red.
The memories of love
so long and jaded.

Death burns with amber
so bright in our
broken story of mysteries
gone by.

Gilded wings flutter in
chaotic dreams as
lovers curse the
yielding silver disk.

How I loved thee
only to find your spurn,
but in it all the
saints can not return.

I ramble with words
and drink honey through
aged grapes,
but sadly I am done.

Because the moon waxes on.

12/02/2008

Posted on 12/02/2008
Copyright © 2025 Christopher Shin