A Ghazal

The leaves fall to the larks mournful song; where are you my love
The jeweled leaves sing their lament harmony; flight of doves

Shall I search among the quartz flaked night? in latticed corners
shall I pluck the moon from the sky, steal the light above?

Should I mourn your artless grace, and crystal tears much longer?
Let the mirrored grove of sorrow steal the flight of doves

Shall I lament with the reed's warbling, longing grow stronger?
Or shall I move on; linger no longer, give it a shove?

Give direction my hollow, give reason to lambent pain
justify my continued existence, not flight of doves

The lark goes quiet, flies for winter; where are you my love?
The jeweled leaves sing lament harmony; flight of doves