poetry form

she limps with halting painful pace
just as my fingers on these keys
when i go back to earth
i stand in the cold gray weather
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
we break the glass whose sacred wine
very well, you liberals
the pale day drowses on the western steep
i am singing to you
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes