To Nancy

Every night lights are extinguished
and not all rekindled with the break of morn.
And, so it was with you.
Doused to dreams by Morpheus
and the cancer dwelling within,
your light grew cool,
flickered,
and was gone.
It’s absence but a minute change
from the breath before.
Your love a blaze lamented
too hot by some it touched,
erratic in its warmth,
bending side to side with drafts of winds,
and drafts of change.
I mourn not the loss of flame
not having felt the heat,
but grieve the lack of it for those I love
whose ways are dark

with loss of you.