Your flame flickers briefly—
a parting whisper.
Some trick of the river
mimics your laughter.
We stand apart at sunset
lost in natsukashii,
come together in darkness
to watch the dead pass on.
Your light has fallen now
to shadow
beneath the bridge.
By Ryan Stone
First published by Napalm and Novocain
Republished by PoetryNook
photo source