Gentle Rain

Elegantly cascading from her soft baby blue eyes,
While also enhancing the delicate features of her precious face
Are the ever present sorrow filled eyes gently raining.
Looming over an old Gothic coffin, while glimpsing into her future foretold in the hollow eyes of death,
Suddenly brought forth the harsh reality of utter remoteness.
Engulfing flames from a funeral pyre surrounding the lifeless beauty.
Firewood crackling in the nighttime air,
Smell the sweet ardour of love freshly departing,
Hence the body freshly demising.
Forever grasping death's ivory hand,
Declining to let go her lover's soft, tender hand.
Truly knowing their eyes meeting shall exist no more,
Truly knowing that embracing and caressing shall become no more.
Having to relinquish all dreams of love,
Leaves her this desolate fate of own which has been dealt.

by Michele Marie Nester

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