Tears flowed down the ravines of my arid cheeks, As my fluvial eyes watched you leave. In the darkness of the feint long shadow you cast, You failed to look behind, Its over. I grieved. Down lovers lane I return to where we used to meet, Where woven headlights lit the glade, We would writhe naked, Alive in something sacred, As fairies in dandelion’s played. I stand here now amidst the dry death of leaves, With the banshees of the fallen from deciduous trees, And see our names carved in diseased sycamore, Memories never felt this cruel before. Love is not a constant, Love is an instant, And love favors the weak, They are the dreamers like me who weep. Tangerine skies peel to dusk, And on Lovers Lane – the sound of car engines purr The silver of moon has turned to rust, The arid airs embalmed in myrhh, And lovers make vows to each other incognito, As I walk past, loves widow.