Last Poem

Lustrous awe
Cradle me
Woe befall
The falsifier
The sights rued
To fall
And scatter
Like the leaves
A shadow
A bond
Reach.
Comes to grips.
It slips
Comes to grips.
It slips
Settled on the wall
Between the ash
Nothing said...
Into the past.
A two way mirror
Each utter
Into the past.