There within the words –
those soothing little words –
chirping all about –
flittering here and there –
finding me – my longing soul –
awash in their symphony –
gasping at their touch –
softly caressing my every drop.
And to wit – that such words fallen before –
in years gone by for mere dreams to recapture,
but often forgotten –
gone to receding waves or silent moon –
Moon so stoic and grey and pitted –
mocking us with all of those before us –
who once stood and watched her as we do now –
marveled her brilliance amongst
……….. the sparkling stars –
shining down upon such great love as
Cleopatra and Marc Antony –
or Ulysses and Penelope….
Gone now – to grave and dust –
brings sadness that such emotions
thrived within beating hearts…
As ours beat now.
But gone in the coldness of death.
Your love is no less precious a thing –
no less breath taking –
no less earth shaking…
no less heart staking…
than what it takes to make me live forever.
For if death promises to take you away from me –
Then I should pray, and hope, and desire only –
…… to live eternally by your side –
defying even God’s will for your endless love…
That is the measure of sweet Margaret Alice…