SNOWDROP

SNOWDROP
D.F. Paul

Her eyes pale snowdrops, her lips turned cold,
We spoke on wandering tides of half-formed dreams,
For a future that never was
And a past that may not have been.
The wind whispered lies of home,
Sold separate dreams of nothing at all
That seemed so special so long ago,
But failed with the world’s wayward will.

The fire burned down to forlorn cinders snapping
Their last protest against the impending dark.
The moon birthed silent ghosts upon the sea;
They bore wordless witness to the last loved
At the twilight of our gossamer desires.
We spoke the words that once meant the world
But rang deathly hollow at the end;
Some sacred vow turned last lament.

She said something more but no words came;
I hadn’t the courage to say her name again
But the imagination to invent all the possibilities:
A dream long-dreamed of a life unlived,
A song unsung that reached through the void
Of man’s self-obsessed emptiness,
A day when the sunrise came of its own accord
And asked no price for its simple service.

Unforeseen fleeting moments became eternity
Until we parted one last time beneath the moon
With a silent wave and a lost lover’s look.
The tide rolled out and that was the end,
Our dreams relegated to dreaming once more,
Banished to our solitary gloaming in imagined light.
But through all else, one everlasting note remained:
Yielding an endless love, Dawn’s aria, nocturne immortal.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.