Goldeneye

Every word spoken 

Still within my dreams 

Letting go is the hardest part, 

Moving on is misery. 

She dances in my head, 

As autumn flights from green 

A quicker shade of silver, 

A ghost of a dying thing. 

At a grave I wept, 

Her face, I still can see, 

Haunted as the world, in all its tragedy. 

Oh, The Golden Eye! 

Dooms my memory. 

A plaguing series of recollections, 

Of what she meant to me.

(Written in 2010)