Sweet Are Her Words

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