These things I've done.

A Table by the River

The brilliant Moon holds no joy for me.
It's soft glow, cast of silver or gold,
Ought to be a treasure to behold...
No longer.

The beams of light imprison my soul.
Powering the Ocean's tides,
The Moon stirs my memories.
Tainted not of its own design -
It's in my mind the taint resides.

Trauma?  Tragedy?
I cannot say it is so,
This is what lays me low:

Under a Moon wondrously bright,
Our fates shone.
A stream of liquid light,
Washing away our faults.

Leaving bare... all her beauty
                     all my beauty
              all our beauty
       all a memory.
Beautiful. Alone.