Sonnet 19

The first time I sang to you
was in your candle lit room
on your bed between caresses.
In flickering gold and dark
you grasped my hands tight.
Do you remember that night?
Without regret or searching
for reasons, I no longer
sing to you.
Your strong, smooth hands
will never again grasp mine.
Our passion passed into light
like Minnesota melting snow
we love.