Night shadows nodding on my window pane
remind me of your veiled face studying
me as we stood in silent dusk, frail veins
of sunlight’s fading sight still flickering
through stained glass, reflecting in your lost eyes
like distant candles barely distinguished
through evening forest. This lone gold streetlight’s
glow, crystallized by my window’s garish
frost, recalls Venus leering down through sheer
gray cloud as you kissed my chilled cheek outside
sad old church converted to theater.
Rasped you’d cherish my reading. I replied
with mute smile. You touched my lips with finger
trembling so slightly. Chose not to linger.
Roger Armbrust
March 14, 2010
