On a psalterian night, full of moon and shadow,
You stand in the tall grass, soft dirt,
And silhouetted sprinkles of leaves.
I snap a photo of your cornbread colored curls,
Your young smile of arrogance and style,
Your hand waving a floating kiss.
I rest the withered photo with my aged hand,
Against an old bottle of scented ghosts,
Which whisper fragrant echoes of a void
Stretching back infinity forward.
Fingerprints on dust, I tap a finger,
Trying to grasp the intense loneliness,
Only to dwell in the darkness of a sliver of light.