Andromache's Lament

Taliesin Wordweaver

Beloved, I live for your laughter and smile,
the awe in your eyes when they open at dawn
and see the sunlight's soaring rays
flood the flowering meadows. The fluttering
leaves that release the branch to lie
with their fire-hued fellows in the fall of the year,
and are tossed and twirled by the twisting wind,
match in manner of movement my thoughts
when I fear that fate will enfold you in darkness,
away from the warmth of this waking dream
that is frail as frost, our fragile lives.
Have pity on the pain and passion I suffer
when I feel this fear I must witness your fall.
Grant me this grace; shun the grave,
and stay your steps where the stars are bright,
and my arms are always open to hold you.
Do not lie under loam, I love you too much.

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