dark poetry

a storm is riding on the tide
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
i cannot always feel his greatness
long has the summer sunlight shone
when night drifts along the streets of the city
little park that i pass through
our pleasant moments fly
one by one, like leaves from a tree
it was the autumn of the year
in your arms was still delight
perhaps it is no matter that you died
all those treasures that lie