short friendship poem

there is an hour of peaceful rest
a few more windy days
she limps with halting painful pace
birds against the april wind
night is dark, and the winter winds
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
if i should die, think only this of me
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
this is the arsenal
a storm is riding on the tide
death's nobility again
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens