Our joy has sundered
The journey was a floret
Hand in hand, we shrugged the odds,
Traversed the patchy paths
Eddied in thorns
And trekked stormy barchans
The frost slivered us
While we, often bathed in a sag of redolence.
But today, it’s time to book the end of our road
There is a berg everywhere
And am breathless to climb this floe
I can’t hold on anymore
Even though you’re inclining your pivot.
Am sorry that we are at the end of the pale
With no murk, no mud to hold.
Today, I offer a truce
For a heart without a spark can’t be roused.
I know you do phantom an endless liaison
But there is no endless greenness
The once-beautiful trees ought to shed their inept flowers
And our love, is thin.
I am arid,
But remember that a flower transits different lives;
The mean bracts render it another life
So is ours
Our life is never hollow,
We are only immersed into a transition
So it’s time to rest
End the sorrows my dear
And embrace the reconstruction