On grass silvered by dew I fell by your violets to pray, Everything old was shining in gold And you were anew As you soared to the sky in gray. From the urn I dusted my lips, Tasting you for one last time Forced to learn from all of this That you are no longer mine. Our love became wrinkled from happiness. Is this why I falter not to grief ? Maybe I prefer sadness When I sleep alone in our bed, Circled into an old mottled shape Like your unlaid wreath.