A Long Distance Flame

I stroke the flames in the brazier
That sizzle with the faint affection
Of the substance it consumes.
An effigy of nature's nymph,
She who ran through my leaves
And nestled in my branches
But she left me
With only rustling in my bowers.

Some nights her marble skin
Is not so different from the coolness of
That long ago summer day
Where the coolness of
Apple wine and mandarin oranges
Settled between our lips.

I guard this marble effigy nightly
And clothe her in fine linen
And think that she might think it gold
Whose threads her marble fingers cannot feel.

I see her every night you know
In the place before horizons meet
Where ladies bouquets don't
Flutter to the ground when thrown
And never leave eager fingers
Throwing out hopes for next spring.