II.
Life itself cries out with summer night's heat,
Leaving imprints around that flare upon
An instant's backdrop, no less to complete
Blaze and sear itself on pages well drawn.
No such warmth have I since yesterday's death,
Crossing the mortal threshold to this day
For where one stays likeness similar health,
Nevermore shall it change or afar, stray
Against its new palette, with new painter.
Cold and dark nights await the years to come,
Each night cooling the fire, still much fainter
Never a pace closer to life's autumn.
No blaze likens to life's mortality
Even one that lasts an eternity.
© George Galang February, 2001