Nightfall

Nightfall

She passes her soft, warm fingers over may face one last time as she approaches the glowing embers on the western horizon. Her skirts softly whisper in the thermally generated breeze.  With the last rays of light, that she shines in my direction, contrast increases and then disappears. It gets cold fast when she leaves me alone with the clear dark sky only inches higher than my straining outstretched fingers can reach.  Like fireflies fill the meadow, stars fill the void; . She is gone. Now there is no moon, nothing left behind but frost. Only the to-the-bone  chill of loneliness remains. Alas, No fire, I can ever light, will rekindle the warmth of her smile or restore the feeling of her fingers, just checking with a touch. Are you OK? My soul is spent, I have no tears left.  I am not allowed to wail like a mourner.  I am a a captive of my role and nothing but a deflated blue balloon lying in the corner of an otherwise totally empty grave  Her casket is lowered reverently. She is not here, and I had no chance to say goodbye.

D Moarzjasac