You Forget Me Not Poem by James McLain

I should never want.
Would you, I could ever know of one thing.
Having broken three rules up above.

You know if I look out at the crystal clear moon,
the red branch of how slow autumn returns where I stand.
Trees loosing branches the bushes are bald
once again denuded of leaves.
Out of your window all around there below.
If I touch the glass it must close.

As close to the fire impalpable ash without being blurred.
The Silhouette is a cameo of one mound, you carry to me.
Light as if varied exists, deep aromas I smell.