Though lives,
they do evolve,
whether chosen paths
or certain wraths,
the simplistic nature of truth
seems always to find a way,
a return,
a quiet melody on a frost lain morning
underneath a crisp autumn sun.
This day, like any
would hold certain desire,
a chance encounter,
a perhaps planned
destination,
where we once might
aspire
yet today, we can only require
an accepting amnesty
from the rules we did wish
with passion,
to break,
to change, to alter,
because we,
once believed was
love-ly
In the afternoon, as the sunlight
began now,
its earlier departure,
the words, well symbolic gesture
came across my eyes,
and the tears,
oh those tears,
their immediacy
did again remind me,
hers is a mystique
a delightful horizon
for fresh wonder,
to hold true
my dreams
into the chilly reception
of winter’s drawl,
her sweet demeanor
is my truth.
© Scott F Savage 2019
apersonaljourney - stories of love 