Rememberance by Mike Williams 02/04/2016 @ 1:52 A.M.
I walk the spance of moonlight hours and never for poetry.
‘Tis love that I ever pine for that worms now in the grave.
And all of my wit and expressions could not a moment stave.
How it comes so tempered and fleeting and goes like a gentle wind.
And though I with all of my velveted purple prose and my ink and pen.
I could not capture and pen down a single heartbreak to save.
Nor can I find the lifted heels so light of many a former day.
Knowing too well love is a stately star by which I long to stear.
And I remain lost in the thick and fog and my love is no longer here.
So I wonder lost from hour to hour in some strange tangent lunacy.
Caught in the nets and dashed love’s rocks and remember through poetry.
Image: The Man (George O’Brien) stalks through a moonlit marsh in F.W. Murnau’s transfixing Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans