White diamond, silvery light, diadem of devotion.
No Iseult, no tragic burning hearts, no love potion.
Spending time, knocking back beers, a winter rain.
My love was ruled by the moon, growing to wane.
You hugged me tight, my hope for a soft night grew.
Not my family or blood, but you freely said I love you.
My wings, circumcised and hobbled, wiped away your tears.
I placed that diadem upon your head, queen of chasing fears.
I can call you up in my head, but I can’t feel your embrace.
I can see the warmth in your smile; in this year it is out of place.
I made you queen, because you were all I knew of love, that season.
You’re gone and all time is wasted, to hold to you I have no reason.
But I do. Oh my god, I do.