Buds burst, a delicate fragrance -
remembrances drift slowly
upon a soft Spring breeze.
Her bold, silent eyes drew him into her circle
where he lingered, stroking her golden hair.
His quiet gestures of kindness and strength
made her feel weak, yet full of love's power
as she held his solemn face in her hands.
Her tempests grew gentle,
sculpted by warm, laughing currents
swirling within her belovéd's touch.
Surreal seasons subdued raging tides
of a once-bright bride, now a weary widow
whose shadow falls and fades with retreating light.
Parched by drought, humbled by doubt,
a shell made hollow by savage storms of April
endured in an unknown country.
It is a secret place she cannot know,
an unspoken curse in the sleepless night,
a weight she must somehow bear.
She bends and sighs,
not yet defeated.
Her pale, trembling fingers
try to smooth thin tufts of displaced grass
upon his narrow bed,
her forever now buried
beneath Winter's cold, cruel ground.