Sonnet 16

Encased in amber lying in plain sight
The memory of life with you remains
But inaccessible it only stains
My hours; loving you was never quite
As satisfying as it now would seem
In retrospect, though I would otherwise
Have argued in the past. But wounded eyes
Govern those perceptions, beautiful dream
Of mine, and I am left tracing the lines
Of a fading image behind a shell
Impenetrable, receding; my Hell
Is my creation - Heaven intertwines.
Forgive me if I linger overlong
The power of this image is too strong.