Something lingers after you're gone . . .

Perhaps the sweet agony of your birth

      bursting upon my consciousness

Makes me loathe to leave your image

      to the chance of memory.

Thus I pursue you beyond our

      original sphere,

Beyond the outline of our meeting,

Inviting new delinquency of time

Where time is speared by delicate

      shafts of insight

Spinning cocoons of beauty

Surrounding me in sighs of sorrow

When you're gone.