Tale of withered love
I dreamed that i stood in a garden,amid tears without consoles,
Where i stood was now barren and desolate, the same spot we planted a pot full of our love,right there i dreamed that my Withered love came furtively out of the dense fog with her pale half close eyelids falling on a soaked desolate, teary and dream-dimmed eyes.
I cried sick in my dream, a ones perfect love in rhyme, now withered, not even our heart touched,the garden and the dense bearing witness of our time before it burned and fade, this was the same spot we lay breast by breast,confessing only to ourselves.
In my dream as i stood in the garden and stare on as you melt with the fog, the dews drop slowly as my dreams gather, my dream-awakened eyes falling on the memory of you and i inbtwxt the embers of sile,i found myself dugging deep into your soul,in a search for a treasured stream to quench my thirst,i drank myself to full till i was drunk,
Now i sob,I am sober, i want to be drunk in you again.
Your hair a folden flower the fragrance built a fortress in my senses, rose was your night gown has it became the garden bed
The very rose in a straight blue garment, I fell still not only inlove but at the perfection of all your concerns.
How i fail to water this garden and let us wither i blame only
If there be hope however that it is mere hoping,weaver and flicker has long as it sparkles on and don’t cease,i want the reality again
of smelling your rose hair; and cover your lips with odorous twilight and say,swearing only but love.
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