Gone, now, is the green man deep into the cold hard ground–
our May-December romance comes to chilled and frozen end.
Those fruitful plains once brimming with creeping life and sound
fall barren, plain and empty, while to darkness he descends
and with him taking nectar sweet, the lifeblood of the earth.
Long ago I dreamed a dream of Spring’s joyous return
when love would blossom once again in triumphant rebirth
and budding shoots and twining vines would bind us. Still I yearn
to capture that sweet innocence, of winters filled with hope
but he is gone, this time for good. There is no coming back
from final death, pit of despair, unscalable steep slope
where all that’s green decays and dies and turns to carbon black.
I sink with thee in grief and pain and always I’ll remember
the brightness of eternal May ‘though evermore’s December.
Pushcart Prize nominee Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction writer whose work has appeared in several journals, including Expanded Horizons, Bete Noire, and Silver Blade. Her work also appears in the short story collections “Doorways” and “Blind Alleys”. She resides in the heart of the Pennsylvania coal region, where she keeps the dust jacket for “Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter” in a frame over her desk because of its sheer awesomeness. BLEEDING HEARTS: BOOK ONE OF THE DEMIMONDE is her first novel. For news and updates on the series, visit Ash at http://ash-krafton.blogspot.com.
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