The blend of roads, the hailing rain,
Sweet and sour , thoughts in pain,
the moment of prime approaching near,
the darkest evening of the year.
The sky was silent, smooth and calm,
the soothing breeze, the same date palm.
Years had passed, yet could feel,
those glittering eyes, staring still.
Felt the thorns, the roses bled,
the night descended, the ravens fled,
the haunting garden cried apart,
the withered flowers, the bleeding heart.
Saw her in that dream of mirrors,
the union of hearts, the connection of tears.
The same white gown, those happy eyes,
Life and death meant no ties.
Life was nothing, but piece of grace,
to once more see her happy face.
The touch of wisdom in powerful eternity,
the never ending charms, the happy days.
There she laid,
beneath the garden of bones,
the thorny bushes, the cold stones.
Ever smiling , contended, safe and sound,
the withered grass, the weeping ground.
Time did pass, months and years,
with sweet desperation and hidden tears.
All it was what meant to be,
The cruel, unthinking destiny.