Your Promise

Poem

What good is your promise,

you've gone to Time's Lagoons.

We splashed in ankle surf

and tugged a sinking kite.

 

What was that prayer you whispered,

in Twilight's arctic desert,

where the raging of your storms

died beneath the August moon.

 

What good are your echoes? Your 

shells forswore their tide pool.

Your gift of raptured pearls

lies squandered on a winter beach.

 

What made you sing your requiem

and vanish through that darkened gate.

With hammered copper on your eyes,

you spent your diamond heart.

 

What led you down those dour halls,

so guiltless in your mortal shame,

that now I rue each dawning day,

and lay my bouquets on your grave.