black poetry

old wine to drink
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
she might have known it in the earlier spring
i stand in the cold gray weather
music i heard with you was more than music
a bird sang
listen to the sounding sea
rocked in the cradle of the deep
i had over-prepared the event
as evening falls
if i should die, think only this of me
friend, whose smile has come to be