To Brent...

Despair sets in,
like fog,
flowing over the streets and walkways
of a forgotten world.
Windows dim and doorways fade,
lost in clouds,
whispering mist whips
into the chimney tops,
the moon above lending silver
a fluid beam caught,
suspended,
reflected in the eyes of lovers.
Two bodies, side by side,
a bed of grass below.
Two tears fall
in unison,
Pain, the only thing
they now share.
Jumbled voices, half-heard phrases,
sob-choked goodbyes
and then silence.
The sound of grass in the wind.
The fog thickens,
obscuring all,
no longer a veil but a wall,
dulling the sound
of his footsteps
as he stands and leaves
and I cry on fresh cut grass.