Auld Lang Syne..

The demure star
made love
to
the whisps
of
a night
so apocalyptic
knowing
it will
break
into a dawn..

A soft season
of
hopefulness..
shrill
and faint..
Cremated
with
the creole
they sang
once
lying in arms..

The July rain
sank
on
it's knees
As
the silence
streaked
down
her
livid
naked
cheeks..

An insatiated
edifice
the whirlwind
left behind..
over
the
stone chair
by
the garden..
Decorous air
set
love-leaves
afloat
to the sky..
Even as
the Moonbeam
stole
them away..

She sat
by
the temple
of time..
The snow
this December
turning
lemon wet..
with
the
Whiff of Spring..