They forget that we mortals are tied to the clocks
Lashed to the turning of gears and old cogs
While their youth remains endless and death a rare myth
Our years roll by and so grows life’s rift.
Her beauty entranced him when the gardens were young
And the rose bushes held buds still to be sprung
But restlessness grows in the white of new wings
When the promise of flight in the wind whispers and sings.
She’ll forget that mortals are tied to the clocks
Lashed to the turning of gears and old cogs
And the gardens will bloom in the promise of spring
But mortal hands will stop when the final chime rings.
So she’ll lie across steps where their feet once fell
And the memories of smiles can still yet be held
For his bones have been lost to the passing of time
To mix with the soil from where the ivy does climb.
(inspired by ironshod’s fantastic piece ‘Sweet Sorrow’)
This is perfection.
Thank you so much! That’s such a wonderful compliment.
A compliment most deserved. 🙂
Beautiful!!! That’s so intense that it lacks words to define…but you portrayed it so amazingly…. 🙂
*Love and hugs*
-Astha
Thank you so much. I’m really glad that you enjoyed it.
Enjoyed? I loved it… 🙂
Aw, I just hope that my other writing can live up to the same standard.
Anyday girl! 🙂