blithe and lithe, the choice that voices make
but never take in forsaken remembrances.
beauty defined, refined and in time, a prime
and perfect fabric of dreams and memory.
I hope, I pray, to walk with you yet a ways,
to see you evolve and the world revolve
around you, by your own remarkable essence.
your presence fills me with wonder and I am drunk
of the possibilities of a life I had given up,
convinced there was no one or nothing left
to blind my pain, to find my waning will
and fill me with honey and ambrosia and nectar
the likes of which Aphrodite would envy.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.