Current mood:

nostalgic

Fourteen months later
and eleven poems after,
the tale that we spun
now comes to a close,
as the ink slowly dries
and the writers put down their pens.

Our story started
from wind, waves, and sea;
but as we strayed further inland,
the sea beckoned less and less.
And in the nautilus shell I hear
the echoes of laughter
and worried shouting;
shared glory and pain
ebb away with
the tides of time.
The boat and sail
is carefully stowed
in a place close to my heart.

A duet, in tones high and low;
we started off in synchrony.
Perhaps the pace,
the pitch was too different,
but now the tenor and soprano
sing their last chords,
shake hands and retreat,
as the last notes of the piano
reverberate about the hall.

This is the path
where more light shone
and more tears fell.
Now the fire burns no more,
as a softly glowing warmth remains.

And up above
in the dark night sky,
the autumn gibbous moon
benignly smiles
upon this little tale
of human fates.