On hearing news of murder
The way the street light fills the dark is nothing but a lie,
the night is there as real as day, a trick upon the eye.
The way the body lies bereft still warm and supple yet,
stiffening slowly somethings left that someone won't forget.
A heart still glad and beating strong is soon to cruelly break,
that to another did belong that shared the lovers ache.
New Sun will chase away the black to see the morning rise,
and one much loved will ne're be back as duller dim the skies.