My Man's Sweet Sorrow Visitation

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3 years ago

I can barely hear the melodies to his walk

sounded like old midnight wander as our feet soak

in the softness of warmth sand lying on the shore

our fingers are fixed intertwined wishing no more

the gradation of his footsteps and all his steps

his masculine arms, broad shoulders and strong biceps;

walls and frames of my shelter, my home and refuge

protecting me when my waves are 'bout to surge

though the aurora hasn't almost ascending

there are scattered darkness but he's now visiting

with nosegay of kaleidoscopic fresh flowers

my two nostrils can smell his scented loveletters

he looks neat as if will having a special date

bittersweet emotions pouring out; love and hate

cinnamon eyes expressing smiles and agony

words have symphony of rapture, melancholy

I sense from his cherry lips the haul of longings

arms drooling to encage me with coming mornings

touches dreaming to brush my tangling hair, again

the way his tears cascade tell that his life is vain

he threw me of I love you 'til the greeting twilight

rasping wind blew harder, darkness swallows the light

candles melted away then a man came nearby

“Sir, I have to close the gate of the cemetery”.

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