Like the Bird

If you must go before me on your flight
To some fair star, more excellent than this,
I shall survive my agonizing night,
Sustained by the remembrance of your kiss
And solaced by the memory of your words,
In secret sweet communion through the years,
While the long flight of migratory birds
Will seasonally serve to still my fears. For like the bird whose instinct drives it south,
This soul must some day follow in your wake,
These lips come home to rest upon your mouth
Though I may not discern the way you take.
My needle swerves whichever way you are,
My heart shall find you on the furthest star.