They whisper songs of yesterday,
smiling a while, wondering later
liked tired souls on a lost island
awaiting warm bath of lavendar and lemon;
Amidst that waiting,
pulse grasping leftover breaths,
a dew-kissed pathway, expecting strangers next morn,
like madonna dancing in love-cushioned moon-night;
a candle at the window -
flicker, then rest, later lose faith
on wind,
so much like a romeo
under that jinxed balcony,
an irony that is life -
he probably would exclaim
will he?!
the sonnets go missing,
as summer sun in a autumn -
like unfaithful lover
on passion-kissed night,
forgotten -
as a dead poet
so forgotten!
(*written for the poet Sara Teasdale)
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Submission Name: Forgotten
