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
Exquisite and mournful, but also enduring strength, Punam.