(Fallen Angel.)

I.

I beheld, at first, only the stark white of a barren field
And went clad, naively, in the virgin color
Memories lurking close, their dim grey shades just visible
To the untrained eye, which saw, yet could not speak
Soon to voice my faltered love

Emotion, as befitting a child, lurking in dark corners
Watching, with wonder, in the static-filled silence
Living in a velvet shadow, soft hair and brighter eyes, so feminine
Youth in your embrace, shrinking from the long shadows
Of violence behind us

The colors were different then, more lush though they seemed gaudy
Snowfalls and tornadoes, violent death and sweet escapes
And faces seen through stockade bars, close at hand yet held apart
In lonely public places, so often mistaken – though not in truth –
For who I am

Silence had not yet fallen, like a crushing bank of snow
Smothering joy and beauty in a wealth of silver glaze, impenetrable
Simple joys, lovely and unthinking, and long days spent with you
Digging foxholes, dressing dolls and nightmares
In the rusted age of Aquarius