You were here, I knew, a slice of ice.
No farewell, no obituary.
I was summoned by the light.
So many times I stood, or walked by.
I was too heavy
to befriend or become.
Thus I stayed, and waited, and feigned:
iridescent rays, prismatic guest;
until that light, that drowsy trumpet of Morn
took it away.
I advanced.
You were here, and weren't away.
The warmth of day
your glass retained.
And I was rainbow.
My lungs, they made
no breaths without taking tinge
of your tender, cool, lasting scent.