Heart clinging to expectation's feather
bounces on fleeting breeze of hope
one second bending into darkness
the other pointing towards heaven.
Lover's lips exhale promises
that give such moments of pure ecstasy
or leave the pulse transfused with disappointment.
Straining from the tempest elation
where there is no place of passion's permanent shelter,
just a tent where the soul resides
always ruffled by winds that breech serenity's covering.
Life beating best when speaking with finger's lace
about soul mated always with whispered enduring affections,
feeling bent towards melancholy's abyss
when all one can touch is emptiness
in one's bed
where absence is a cruel miser
of joy's donations.
Bronze trophy winner
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