teen poem

dark-eyed
perhaps
we break the glass whose sacred wine
i can not tell you now
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
though i am little as all little things
one with you
perhaps it is no matter that you died
through the broad earth's aching breast
she might have known it in the earlier spring
thoughts through my head
i know not where
for truth, for love
friend, whose smile has come to be