My Lover and her Death

As that November was brought back
in the sizzling drowning of the embers,
I sat obsessing over all of her
and I delved deep in futures lost.

I see her smiling now in spring,
feel the warmth of gold surround her,
as dandelions sprout and sing
of all the futures that I lost with her.

By the riverbank in summer,
tossing stones that hopped and sank,
I feel the brushing of her hair
instill in me such sweet despair.

And as we crumple leaves in autumn,
and hold hands in hopeful joy,
that's when I finally hit the bottom
and fall back into the void.

Winter comes and so does her,
in every shiver, every breath,
every step a dear reminder
of my lover and her death.