For Lily

The fire burns but brings no warmth.
Cypress stands black against the sky.
You’re gone; shadows die on the floor.

We drove here, our first trip as one,
watched sunsets shimmer on white sand,
and blue waves breaking on the shore.

Later, we came back, to relight
that same fire against the sunset
What was the argument this time?

The fire burns but brings no warmth.
Cypress stands black against the sky.
You’re gone; shadows die on the floor.

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