Briefly gorgeous

You went down faster than the Sun
But your memories remain afloat
I dare not read your epitaph
I refuse to be consoled by words
This grief will never end
This wound I will tend
Like a wee butterfly
The only white rose blooming
In a field full of thorny reds
I will scream for you
Through fever bouts and perspiring pores
I will drink every scene
Poured out of our yesterday
I will ignore everything six feet under
I will stay elevated by warm thoughts of you.

Vera