Two misfit cogs of one wheel of convention,
Let’s name them He and She.
Sewed hastily together by playful kismet…
For days they soared, like a winged bird, free.
The thread adorned with beads of distance,
Was set ablaze by thunder and haste…
He wished to whisper to her blossoming love,
She prayed to the flames to make her chaste…
In moments, the hearts spew ash and cold,
Muffled tears died and yearning fell silent….
He tried to save, so touched her into stupor,
She burnt more from his touches, brushed unkempt.
With bruising scalds and bleeding love,
He went his way, she hers…
The stars smiled and kismet winked,
Time descended to bury the scars.
The seasons changed, the laburnum swayed,
Snow and Moon, lost in brewing love…
The fire was dead, the burns were healed.
He kissed the sky with pinions of a newborn dove.