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moments

caught to briar
by leaving –
as every word to one –
cursed the locks
beneath
the selfless night

paths of cold
as longing spread
down the rungs of time
splayed with truths
the poet left –
as proof of our
demise

wherein
for death
we traded
when chose of all –
to be
lessons hewn
together
by the soul

write again
of this one more
we passed
on ways familiar –
as longing
took of trust
to let us in

anxious plea
the keys to work –
as willed these stones
to polish
shadows slip
between the rocks
where once we hid
our love

. . .