Cracked-Rusted-Faded

The crack in my Vision

Saw its half burned face

A snap of my faded eyes?

Or, a fissure in tainted glass

It was there, and

Then it was gone

It would have sworn

On my dull thoughts

Dry Whisper echoed

As if it never existed

And, hummed sharp—

“All is now wasted”

Holding my hand loosely

Drew shapes on my palm

It gave me tingling then,

And now I set to qualm

Still have my open hands

Fingers warped to hold,

The invisible—the intangible 

Evening winds flowing past the town

Mourn the bent hooves of rusted gate

Gate guarding the stained glass walls

Friend, then lover and now a stranger

Carrying a fragile foliage of questions

What, when, where, whom—Oh, Alas!