From Sun to Shadow

Picking through the bones of our affair
nobody could guess that these once were
fleshed with dreams, aglow with aureoles.

All through that autumn, when our laughter
made bright air brighter by its ring,
our love had a being, breathing fire.

And who could guess from these bones
how much we had, what is still unsaid:
the lexicon of how we felt

and what we saw. Winter clouds soar
above the shattered remnants.
Beyond the broken gate the wind

cries out a song of despair.
Who now will know of what we did
And what became of us?

Who from these bones will divine
how desire, once red, bleached to white
when temptation's shadow blocked the sun?