To Wither By Degrees

Memories teeter

on a volcanos edge

waiting for a gentle breeze

 

His skin, creased

soft folds deepening

as we talk

of nothing 

and everything

 

My love, a boundless love 

rushes in to fill 

these empty spaces

 

A day is coming

I can hear it, 

a distant marching band, 

when only 

my love 

will remain