The afternoon came mounting on
its feathered horse,
Not a leaf moved,
Not a soul stirred,
A television blared somewhere,
Suddenly the remnants of a bond,
a horde of fond memories,
of long cherished, purely divine moments
rose from the bottom somewhere within
and tuned into showers
no, into a river that flowed vigorously
late into the day's end,
and then slowly dried up.
A question repeated itself
to which no answer was an answer,
mistakes don't begin or end a soul affair,
may be the sins from a last birth
evolved as penance
were carried over
from another life.
No, love never ends,
you remembered the words
and your eyes started flowing once again,
You wove a song
and planted it on the afternoon's wings
so that it may reach the other end of the world
and melt the gathered suffocation
setting the heart free,
to fly through the opened doors of existence
to unbearable tenderness,
and pain.
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