Whispered in the Evening

Whispered in the evening,

Your voice resounded in passing fire of Jacarandas


Above azure waters,

Ravens piece together a darkness of October,

Mapping light years of a futile sleep.


Under jasmine and olibanum skies,

Violet clouds of dusk

Carried your boat of exile

Over the dream’s plagiarized passage.


You will die again in Greece.

Our hours will return,

And cascades of autumn crocus

Will weep all night along the Plaka.


Stars in clusters of fatal pink colchicums

Burned over carbon-dated texts of your lost words.

It was a future that was always past.


Whispered in the evening,

It was waiting in a long silence of failing color –

It was a short space of resounding years –

It was what remained,

As your voice receded to silence under quiet fire of Jacarandas.