It was a dreary December night
When I expended all of my might
Calling from a thousand miles away
Pleading with you to just stay

And make this tundra of a soul
Hospitable and somewhat whole
To be a sun radiating exploding light
A warmth in this cold and frozen night

It was a scythe that cleaved us apart
And left me morosely thinking what happens to the heart
When bodies are made to recoil by the earth
And our souls toils undone by death.

She told me about the infinite cyclicality of style
With a smile and gentleness I was remembering to love
How fashion trends would repeat every once in a while
Not all at once or together, bits remain, sizing with her hands.

She taught me how to make the most out of my misery
Even though in my mourning I rejected company
Her arms wrapped around me as I wept quietly
For moments she was mother and I was child, our cord unbroken

She thinks of me when she stares at her stereo
A betrayer of the truth, a stranger who baited scorn
I remember her when I see the blossoms of spring
How long till this love, conjured to last forever, is all gone?

I said to her, in a memory imagined “I fell for you while sipping tea
A hundred times before and ten times that to come,
And should we meet again, under arrangements desired or not
I will always fall, and you will always smile

Your face echoing my love, my love echoing style,
Broken by time and remade, seeming different but remaining, one and the same.”