Kindling

Alder smoke passed between
We two, casting sickly haze.
Though you had only seen
Me, I could only be amazed.

A cloud of grey and down
Circling slowly, meandering
Like the King’s final mound-
My love, alas, a fickle thing.

With eyes like burning embers
You wore a hemlock wreath;
But in this dream, remember:
If I be sword, you are sheath.

MSBQ