Box Framed Poem by Andy Brookes

transient moments bearing no notation, resurgent thoughts swirl.
I dreamed you next to my body once upon a precious time,
your name whispered on the breeze, my tongue softens at the sound
a bouquet of remembered rose petals and white carnations now lie brown.

was I that other person looking out the tarnished frame, so young?
Your laugh care free arm, draped on shoulders, lopsided grin
ideals worn on tattered sleeves, sparse paper culled from bookends.
writing odes with cupids dart, poverty a fly on the wall,
a shadow, the swords hunger hung, stomach gnawing for love and life
so we ate grass and nettles and thought it a banquet now but bitter herbs.

earth has swallowed whole those desires and that other framed
now seasoned dry bones, in nailed oak box, potted in clay cold and deep and Cupids dart lies broken, alone, just a stone on display
to mark the death of love and life and dreams.