Journals of Love

Every year, I come the cemetery,
Our journals of love, I do carry,

Three months have passed, since my lover's death
With her own, she took my breath.

Shadows form around me, move on their own,
I see a face made of sacred stone.
My darling angel, where are you now?
To live this life, I do not know how.

Staring at me is the jilted moon,
Who never had her lover, which to swoon.

Six years shared, has turned to six feet,
The wholeness I once felt, has become incomplete.
I hang my head to weep at our separation,
To fully experience what is now desperation.

As I hang my head, I do not know why,
But I feel eyes staring at me as I cry
When will the season of winter pass from my heart?
And I know, it is when we are no longer apart.