A poem about springtime, about goodbyes and old loves. If you read it, please rate it! |
This obsolescence of our great romance Was not to be expected, nor desired, my heart Like the child’s toy, bright colored plastic Which amuses for a time Then is passed along for a new plaything. Though, I would not trivialize you by saying that. I would not hesitate to say that we held heaven close to our essence for some time. Nor would I pretend I did not enjoy the nights you held my hips in your hands, course to touch my lissom skin While outside the trees turned dry and fickle. The sighs you breathed into my shoulder Were a thousand symphonies yet unheard. Your laughter could cut through the ice outside our door. We had no need for fire when we had each other through the winter. Yet, our ancient wisdom knew its fortune. With spring comes melancholy hiding in each drop of rain each puddle each flower that graces the world in her puberty, Her full breasts speaking of new loves and new memories. And though I love you now others may as well later. This farewell wasn’t a goal as much as those nights your hands our laughter and the beauty of the love we knew and hope to know again. |