SONNET 103
Once I retreat into a mode of solemn silence
You can never hear me whispering again
The sacred silence that accompanies death
Takes me close to the bank of famed Lethe
Making me lose hold of all I had once loved
The shared silence itself, the flight of dove,
Locked fingers, hearts dying for undying love
Become all a sigh, a trace of wiped footprints
Silence for a heart in love is but imposed death
Opening no secret passage leading anywhere
417