Nineteen. Forty. Seven

We ache with intense-melancholy,
Severing veins because your nightmares,
Are no longer something alien to me,
When your springs cannot be pink,
Our tears fall alternately upon these lands,
Sprawled across the earth — we join hands.
Physically we may never reach.
But our spirits are already encrypted between the folds,
Of the unified waves resonating between us,
From my eyes and yours reaching the banks,
Of rivers where we have always stood, together.

The chilling summers and fiery winters,
Overwrite everything in-between,
Spring and autumn are not fading but are reflected,
Within the daily storms we carry in our arms.
The rain never promised it would fall silently,
So each drop collides with earth,
Fragile-strength leaving footprints,
Aiding growth — the way that we do,
Each time our souls collide,
In all of our painful- tender ways,
Reaching through tears that we’ve both tasted,
Memories bitter-sweet intertwine,
Deeper with…

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Author: gogwit

One foot in Sanity, the other in the adjoining parish, usually in the vicinity of the boundary between the two but sometimes straying into the main square of either and very occasionally taking occupation of the Town Hall...

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