Analysis of Memory

On a cold and misty dusk,
I heard the billows roar,
over a sunken ship,
and a winter bud
fearing the shadows fall,
over the glee,
of the coming dawn,
shivered its axis off,
and, oh…
just then you left…
you left my eyes heavy to dream,
that dreamless slumber,
which kissed down,
your eyelids still;
when you were yet away,
far behind the stone
on life’s highway,
the masks,
the beginning of youth.