The rose lay there,
waiting to be taken...
fleshed in red.
It is gone today
after withering in a beer glass,
the disappearing shadow of two lives
They live now; miles apart
in separate lives,
compartmentalized.
Has their story withered too, becoming nothing?
2 comments:
The end of a story,
is like the rainbow pot
The more they reach for it
They reach it not
Whither fate of rose?
A rose does wither!
A glass, a bottle
or Cupid's quiver
Memory of the fragrance
Luring through the night
The shadow disappearing
with the fading light
How far, how near
Is what they pretend
Miles differ from distance
That's the story of the End
This is beautiful. It took me 7 years to see your comment
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