Sonnet XXVI, XXVII: Ballad for the Loner

I met them, friends of yore, in times of love - 
Them snow flakes weighing down on me with glee.
They melted. Then some more, until above
My line of sight, the sky could see through me

I saw then, friends of yore, through orange veil - 
Those sparkling shadows blinding me with hope.
They vanished. Left me gaping at the trail
A fading star, and darkness then, to cope

I saw then, no one, heard no gait nor call
Of whistling wind atoning larceny
They slept. I started walking through the sprawl
Of jilted leaves, derelict memory

And as I pass, I slowly understand
I've been a stranger in a stranger land

A land with trees all stripped of foliage
A land that shackles fondness in a cage
A land that's now a vapid progeny
Of lucid dreaming in melancholy

Melancholy that grinds me to debris
Melancholy that robs all my belief
But I'll endure it as that naked tree
That shadows still, with just that single leaf

A leaf, once torn, that will not find its home
Though myriad promenades it might adorn
With sprightly hue. When quietly turned to loam
Will humbly coalesce to be reborn

Reborn, oblivious of that odyssey 
Perhaps to lead a life of ecstasy