Amber

Passion made me its marker

Of swells and sighs divided

Regret the tenderest heresy

And each pulse, a watershed

And yet no arcing, tumbling,

Glittering thing of mine

Could rival hers; I remember

That frisson of the empty sky

That cry from below

Of heart and soul and mind

My summers sleep in amber

And to look at them

Is to remember

~

Elizabeth Cook, 2016. Image from Hyouka.