Twelve months remain -
without your face, though its structure
is stenciled in my mind.
Eleven times each day -
your ghost creeps down the hall
leaving hints of your existence.
Ten hours ago -
I heard the gentle tones
echoing in my empty room.
Nine letters now -
shipped with emotions
flamed and forgotten.
Eight lonely nights -
bombarded by fools,
guarding simple gestures.
Seven desperate cries -
with chords full of passions
the frets could not hold.
Six summer days -
retelling our acquaintance
of the glittering mountain.
Five close friends -
account for my dedication
fervent as the seasons change.
Four yellow tickets -
travel to the twilight
to the place we first met.
Three little words -
smiles show relief
faithful in each contemplation.
Two hollow circles -
leaden lyrics scribbled -
evoked by notes of mercy.
One life entwined -
satin and polyester
- till death do us part.