For Amy Lynn Watkins
The heart as Icarus soars toward the sun
Of our desires. But, blind to hazard,
Love so often tumbles from light to dun;
Leaving all – mind, body, and soul – battered.
Dicing 'gainst the Gods, we strive to escape
This fate; yearning for flight beyond our dreams.
Sadly, we find that we are poor in shape –
Requiring wings in such airy streams.
Words stand impotent – overwhelmed by clouds
Of loss – never healing our wounded pride.
Yet, even through the darkness of this shroud
Strong hearts will rise to seek a love enskied.
Though now it seems tears cannot be restrained,
'Tis certain, time will melt away our pain.