By Bud Koenemund
For "Her."
As fruit unplucked will wither on the vine –
Abandoned to burn in a sun of shame,
Then fester and fall – an untasted wine,
So can love denied rot the heart, and maim
A soul. Neglect will corrupt affection,
Provoking a disease incurable;
Leaving all blackened by the infection
Of doubt – oft’ leading to an unstable
Mind. But, though ruined, crops can rise again,
Or serve to fertilize fields left fallow;
The passage of time can mitigate pain,
Allowing ripened spirits to mellow.
When passion
lies wracked in shadows of gloom,
It will
seek out light to renew its bloom.
Oh how I wish things were different...
ReplyDeletePaths should crossed in naturalnatural not forced ways...