Wither

When last I watched you unfold
your limbs like apricot boughs,
I silver-pincered this wilted tongue
with the thorns of a frosted rose.

Whenever I witness you fearless
engorge horizon with your tears,
forget stars, forfeit sea and sun,
you water my will to stay here.

Now I think of this trajectory—
elegiac— won't say it's all history,
but warily confess all I've done
was just to keep you next to me.