Ten rounds the sun since our shadows
entwined along the morning path,
danced in the dusk light. The gust swirls
fallen leaves baked dry in my heart,
naked fibres that carried life,
my life and ours. Shadows cleaved
apart, yet under the same star,
mouthing why into the quiet
of each unreal night; eyes seared, fists
unclenching every stillborn dawn.

I am cast out from our garden;
fell thoughts remain my confidante,
drinking up my soul. But for love,
life bleeds out a bit more slowly,
for a little longer.