gryphons_quill

The poet's craft is to pick the right words.
There are too many words for you.
We were friends once, in summertime.
Your smile--
that smile--
there are no words.
I would gladly act the fool
if it meant you would shine
that light upon me
(and besides, there is some wisdom in foolishness,
and who is closer to the gods
than the Holy Fool?)
You were always perfectly reflected
by life--it mirrored you,
caught your essence.
Not even the earth,
not even the air
could resist the gentle fire of your smile,
the waters in your eyes.
Your joy could shake the foundations of my world.
Having lost your smile,
I have lost the sun, and
to lose your friendship
would lose me the moon.
My world would be dark.
There are no words.