I can't see the sparkle

I Can't See the Sparkle

What a miserable day to try to write a poem

When the dismal clouds weep from the sky

I would much rather be hiding at home

I can't see the sparkle

In my car to go to work to make my mark

In the beam the wet road diamonds shine

When I keep myself in the dark

I can't see the sparkle

A lump of rock deep in the earth

Might hide a priceless diamond

When I don't see what I am worth

I can't see the sparkle

A flimsy stick of matchwood sits

Smelling of hell and of sulfur

Until a rough and flinty patch it hits

I can't see the sparkle

With lowered lids she hides her eyes

I don't know what she thinks or feels

Until a tear wells and softly she cries

I can't see the sparkle

One finger softly tenderly lifts her chin

I close my eyes and plant a kiss

Until her gaze reveals what is within

I can't see the sparkle

The Light goes Out

(The prompt mentioned 'the last word'. It made me think of last words. My cousin Max passed away this month. At the funeral, my heart ached to hold my wife and never let go. The challenge of a Villanelle mentioned the famous example of Dylan's  "The Dying of the light". This is what come out.)

"With a flash the light goes out"
For the cowboy shot it in my western book.
Yeehaw! it makes me want to shout.

Oh baby! It makes me want to shout.
She lassoed me with one sweet sultry look.
Now I'd do anything to stop her pout.

I knew I wanted her without a shred of doubt.
She hangs her bathrobe on the bedroom door hook.
With a flash the light goes out.

Hallelujah! It makes me want to shout.
As the candle of time warms our little nook.
I must suck it's marrow while the moment is about.

For I know there's one desperado I can not rout.
It is death, that pale silent crook.
Curse you! It makes me want to shout.
With a sigh the light goes out.