Lament

In the dew that washes summer morning freshly new
I thought I, in tiny bit of meadow, could see you
The Ones who've passed, having crested the hill that leads to longest night
This morning's damp brings back to me tears cried with all my might
Love has a dark side, the fear that love will end
It's true and there's no shoring up the boat to dodge the bend
I take you in my arms and ask that we love and always will
Along this misty morning, cross the meadow to the hill.
                            -Nancy Pine Beers, October '13