When a Poet's Promise Dies
I tried to create a poetic dream,
to fulfill our promise,
but we became a victim
to fate's wounding ways.
My flower garden lies in ruins,
suffering in silence -
my lips unable to kiss her back to life.
In the demise of our destiny,
there is no reincarnation.
Hope fades with each withering petal,
perishing to our unfulfilled vow.
Stench of regret pollutes dark, damp air.
Winds wander, weeping woefully,
whispering condolences for our tragedy.
Delicately, as if it was your soul,
I place the last blooming rose,
close to my heart -
hoping, one day,
to reunite it with you.
I can see butterflies,
drowning in puddles of lament -
helpless in this unforeseen storm.
I sense the angst of disorientated bees.
Their queen deprived of nectar,
they pine in distress -
yearning to be close to her.
Sun rises, veiled in a black blanket.
Birds sing songs of sorrow,
soaking in sombre sadness.
A mournful chorus,
which only increases the pain.
Her image reflects through my eyes.
Her voice echoes in my mind.
I crave for darkness, tired of shadows,
look to the heavens....
Wondering why?
In this dead end of dreams,
soul bangs against my chest,
crying like stinging winter rain.
I collect each sacred tear,
to keep our last rose hydrated -
to lay it upon your resting place.
A promise has no guarantee.
A poet's pen cannot create forever...
Third and final part to my 'Promise' trilogy
Simple Musing
Silent One
6 June 2020
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