Sonnet III

On nights when onyx raindrops start to fall,

I’m often met by memories that I miss.

The way you shone, like Helen, o’er them all,

The way your ruby lips had felt to kiss.

I think of how I held you ‘neath the sky,

And heard the autumn’s air whisper above

And, oh, of how a weak soul such as I

Could only beg and plead to have your love.

Tonight your soothing voice is in the rain,

Your ivory skin embodied by the moon,

The sunrise shows your hair of golden grain,

The break of day just says “she left too soon.”

So I let pass the days and months and years.

I let the onyx raindrops be our tears.