A Funeral March

Tonight I write a poem for your heart-
yet a funeral march plays
in the darkness of my mind.
The piano silences all my joy,
the air in the room grows and glows
with gloom and illuminated ice.
Tears will not forget the sorrow that
mulls in the pit of stomachs.
A heart knows no more songs to sing,
no more love to give, as a
nightingale flies straight into the heart
of the moon, red as the eyes of a mournful lover.

I will play this last song for you,
in the sadness of my mind.
Angels grace my light once more,
before they follow you into dark light.
Dark days reign over me,
dead drops of life flutter into the faces
of all who will die without your touch.

Bring me home tonight.
Let me kiss you one last time,
as I finish this poem,
etched in a heart-shaped stone.