suicide poetry

for truth, for love
a look is but a ray
before the solemn bronze saint
soft as the bed in the earth
evidenced in the glimmer in your eyes
i have seen the proudest stars
under the harvest moon
gone are the three, those sisters rare
over the river, on the hill
we were not many
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
have you heard
out of the window a sea of green trees