wedding poem

which i wish to remark
thou unrelenting past
in all things not spoken of
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
for these white arms about my neck
the sky
why are the things that have no death
though i am little as all little things
listen to the sounding sea
she was a beauty in the days
tripping up, falling down
one by one, like leaves from a tree
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it