Remembrance and Revery
The pallid, placid moonlight transcends my starry vigil,
Sneaking through the trees, the branches, and every leaf,
Until it hits my heart of silent, subtle grief,
Pummeling and pinching it until it softly cleaves;
And that feeling, it returns and never ever leaves.
'Tis a childish fancy, which surges in my heart,
A pathetic fallacy, cursing, taunting, haunting, lost—
A felling that's as empty as this bleak and open frost,
A feeling that's as foolish as a fish within a net,
A feeling that I never can forget.
Her face was like the moonlight, as soft and pale—just as bleak.
Her eyes were like the shifting stars, as luminous and deep.
Her voice calmed like the crickets, though it often made me weep,
Yet I should have no regrets, for she was sweet and kind,
Giving as simple a response as I shall ever find.
But I cannot feel but lost, barren, and drowned,
And lost beneath the burning, luminous rays, I am bound.
And my own breathing as I sleep seems the only sound,
As it softly rises and sets, like this omnipresent pulse of living
Where so much hope and happiness is lost in giving.
Looking up one last time, as the branches rustle and hum,
I turn about upon my restless feet to hid away,
Dreaming in darkness until the break of day,
Reclusive in revery as my fingers play this prelude of my heart:
A brief beginning and a somber start.