March In Fire And Ash Poem by Frank Witte

The words you have written burn in a fiery glow
How it feels to receive them, I shan't ever know.
The fire once lit in the hidden depths of my soul
leaves nothing but ashes and a dream beyond recall.

So as the dark shrouds of bested love recede
a yearning's end has been silently decreed.
My voice found no words that could have beseeched
as the last of the levies of love was breached.

When fire had withered and ash had sprawled
somewhere in a distance my name was called.
Geared up sword and an armor freshly moulded
in my mind with a new map of hope unfolded.

And in dark early morning hours of a cursed March
I peek through my helmet's slits at the world at large.
This knight at arms leaves behind that poisonous fume
and makes for that safe haven found somewhere in June.