"Sheets of empty canvas, " a verse written upon untouched sheets of clay

Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Spread out before me as once her body lay.
The five horizons her soul, my sun, revolving,
Revolving, as the earth to the sun, revolving
Ever turning, heaving, as her breath, the air.

Oh, how empty my words, so far away
Oh, how softly her tones keep me at bay.
The bitter chafing beneath the misty clouds,
The soul’s nothingness amidst the shouting crowds,
The washed away pictures, washed, tattooed in black.

I walk surrounded by ever moving youth at play
Surrounded by memories, by energy at play.
Laughter splits atoms of time into nursery rhymes;
Twisted thoughts spin images into nuanced crimes.
The spinning, the whirling as my sun quietly drops away.

Now my hands fondly cradle bits and pieces of tinted glass,
Now my heart bleeds and flutters as it lets the memory pass.

The picture of her soul clings to my breast, washed in black.

Tattered and tattooed in memory’s click, washed in black.

Click-click: her sun kindles empty skies, untouched sheets of clay.