You are the sky. (poem)

Church bells in October, clamoring their mournful plaints
through the crisp air.
Doves scared into near weightlessness, their white wings
a stark contrast against the twilit sky.

A secret hideaway, in the woods, where a young girl
listens to the babbling brook and writes down its mysteries.
In every word she can recall his face.

Photographs cluttering a coffee table.
Empty wine bottles and cigarette stubs.
Conversations that last till dawn.
The memories faint as an expiring breath:

“You are the sky my spirit circles in,
the love inside love, the resurrection place…”