Oceans Drink Themselves Comatose

The river licks itself dry,
The birds tweet themselves silent,
The bees drown in pollen and die,
The stars shoot themselves in spite,
The moon implodes into tiny stones,
The oceans drink themselves comatose,
The wind blows itself cruelly out,
The pen writes itself into doubt,
The ink settles itself into words,
And then the words suddenly run out.

But this verse I write with a feather,
a quill from the wing of a swan,
flying gracefully in our memory,
Of loves eternal song.