Shrine

The faded rose petals,

as fragile as onion skin,

a testament to our innocent love

have stained the yellowing pages

of your protestation of love

folded neatly within the leaves of a beloved book

as I run my fingers over the barely visible lines

my lips move to the words imprinted on my soul

but no longer scarring my heart with paper cuts

just a twinge of regret for what could have been

didn’t someone call Time, the healer

the curve of my smile gets deeper

enfolding within it

our undying devotion to each other

life can be beautiful and brutal by turns

these petals and yellowing pages are the shrine

I turn to during transient tumultuous times.

 

                                                                            ~ Punam Sharma

                                                                           India

One Comment

  1. Exquisite and mournful, but also enduring strength, Punam.

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