Thin Air

Oh, love of loves that is more than love 

Now deceased under winter shrub, 

No flower or candle could reanimate the future 

From words by you, in our relations polluted. 

Only you would leave, though some will say

That: "You don't care, to douse these flames..." 

Yet I remain enamoured, by the fire in those eyes 

Anchored down in an agony of your footsteps walking by