Lost Love

Every morning,in the garden of roses
he waits for his love
the love that was lost once
in the dark sky of time above.

His eyes search her presence
he waits with his heart
placed on his weakened palm
a risk worth a resurgeing start.

And in his pockets are stuffed those letters
some sent by him and some of hers
a picture,lies below the pocket,
in his heart,that never blurres.

Though the time keeps running
his love is still so young
his youth has been bruised by age
but to eternity he has clung.

The ocean of his life so empty
His ears still so thirsty to hear her say
those lovely words of love
straight from the heart of his fay.

So many love songs live in his throat
they all are still unsung
his heavy voice wants to echo her name
which is stuck in his dry tongue.

So as the sun approaches its bed
he drags his lifeless body to the way
the way back to the hut
where he dreamt they would live one day...

Reviews

[Marie]

What a sad, beautiful, faithful love he has...waiting his life away...

"but to eternity he would clung." I think "but to eternity he has clung" would be better gramatically.

[Balkaran Sidhu]

Thanx...thanks for highlighting that bit of grammatical error...

[Eloha]

How powerful is the love-motive that so much of art is dedicated to it, so much of economy, of labor and concern. It still astounds me.

There were many fine lines in this piece, it was airy and romantic.

[Balkaran Sidhu]

At times...in the middle of the night or somewhere during the day...when i think of all this..it astounds me too...but thats the way it is...
Thanx for the review...