For my Fallen Angel (Pessach)

As I draw up my breath

And silver fills my eyes

I kiss her still

For she will never rise

On my weak body

Lays her dying hand

Through those meadows of Heaven

Where we ran

Like a thief in the night

The wind blows so light

It wars with my tears

That won't dry for many years

"Love's golden arrow

At her should have fled

And not Death's ebon dart

To strike her dead"