promise

he saw her on the tram on his way home

he was heated by memories that sped him up

to ride on a way that would be far from hers;

yet he slowed to see the windows of the tram

as with all the trams he has always passed by

to reflect on the glass who he might ask to be;

she was clustered in visions of sadness

grasped in the growling scream of her frown

with open lips that could exhale no sound;

she got off the tram as if it had not stopped

her motion a single intention that drew back

from her first dream of how she had to become;

he could not reach for her distancing pace

as he set backward to the promise he made

and the events that took him away from it;

she might have never loved him as she played

considering that no feelings were ever to come

as she was never wiling to see what she inspired;

but he had made that promise, not to her only,

to the world that once was his and that cracked

to engulf him with all that he dreamed for her;

she dreamed for meadows where glory blossoms

where she could hear in the sound of mating birds

syllables confounding the cries of loves left behind;

but he had made that promise, to fashion for her

all that clutched in him from her turned shoulders 

cold in his embrace to eclipse horizons from his sight;

he would never be able to understand the depths

of the hollowness that atmosphered in all her actions

to depict the growling of a poetry she could read;

and his blood shivers in the spin of outstripped quills

for paralyzed flights he knits to strike his song upon

with the pulsing of visions he cannot offer

                                                                 to make her stay.