To not grow old on memories
I only reclaim you in April.
That is when I rescue the spark
that blew out too soon and let your
ghost ship eyes shine once more like
fiery diamonds, brush gray ashes from
your lips and lashes, pull you into this
realm where the sun still shines on your
hair and skin and with our minds we touch.
Platinum erupts from your reawakened
eyes when I reveal your name etched