She sang of larks disdain for nature,
A flying figurine whose shadow charged
the moons reflection on summer nights.
Those tranquil capricious lullabies
tore against the cold I had come to worship,
self-inflicted addiction and sorrowful embrace.
And what little warmth could I expect?
Youth kissed with dreams, but denied truth,
holding midnight strolls with fate
while sprites waited for rhapsody.
I found solace in forgiveness awaked,
life in beauty beyond vail and significance.
Were we ever more than faded gifts?
I caress you and my soul cries,
M-am indragostit de tine**
and we sank in those words once more,
as oceans crashed against our sepulchre.
My darling—my darling—my life and my bride,***
there is only time between us,
aeons of dust and lament.
How far that lark, with woven shadows,
fell from melancholy verse! Singing
mi-ai intrat in suflet****,
with such weight of haunted tenderness.
How could a lark not plummet?
Thrashing between the waves,
where together we perished, hollow.
* ‘Love is strong as death,’ – Song of Solomon.
** I fell in love with you
*** ‘Annabel Lee,’ – Edger Alan Poe, 1849.
**** You entered my soul
Poem © Phen Weston 2015
Photograph © Phen Weston 2014