My perfect love

Is sizing up

and black,backlit

stirs and whirling

trips

wet flowers damp

as her lips

reading

under an old quilt

her dogs are quiet

and the night clicks by

old photos unchanged but

filled with weeping now

as winter is upon me

I cannot shake the feel of her hair

from my fingertips

record over her laugh

or erase the silk of her movements

gone now but left me with sighs

and wet sparkles from my eyes