Lost

Seasons come and goyet still I wait:.Easter with her purple flowerssummer on the runautumn bathed in russet huethe footsteps at the gate;but you’re not there.At least it’s true I know,your face, the angle of a smileyour eyes in candlelightjust how you whisper in my earthe curve of skin on bone,know all of these.Years fly pastarmies flutter to their knees,you prowl around the edgeof dreams, and I‘m always askingwhere, and how you’ve been.Seasons come and go, yet nowI have no hope, none at all:of lying in your armstalking underneath the starsdrinking wine from wedding cupand I can’t imagine whyour worlds collided just for this:an empty bed, a puzzled minda shadow on my heartthe footstep at the gateis only mine.