My Man's Sweet Sorrow Visitation

I can barely hear the melodies to his walk sounded like old midnight wander as our feet soak in the softness of warmth sand lying on the shore our fingers are fixed intertwined wishing no more the gradation of his footsteps and all his steps his masculine arms, broad shoulders and strong biceps; walls and frames of my shelter, my home and refuge protecting me when my waves are 'bout to surge though the aurora hasn't almost ascending there are scattered darkness but he's now visiting with nosegay of kaleidoscopic fresh flowers my two nostrils can smell his scented loveletters he looks neat as if will having a special date bittersweet emotions pouring out; love and hate cinnamon eyes expressing smiles and agony words have symphony of rapture, melancholy I sense from his cherry lips the haul of longings arms drooling to encage me with coming mornings touches dreaming to brush my tangling hair, again the way his tears cascade tell that his life is vain he threw me of I love you 'til the greeting twilight rasping wind blew harder, darkness swallows the light candles melted away then a man came nearby “Sir, I have to close the gate of the cemetery”.