She dreams in vignettes
            of black and white,
where mists of reality intertwine

     And he offers a toast
to exiled hopes,
                A glass raised towards
                        tomorrow’s wish

  To soar over illusion’s enticement,
  Not to settle in the quagmire of what was,
  To be cradled instead, in unequivocal hope
                      that love still awaits her heart  
             But her past rolls by
    in a silent parade                
                A scrolling pronouncement
                         of things that were and could be,

      Sad romances where truth’s
               eventualities portray
    in shadowed recollections
        now smudged by her tears

    And as tears caress the lashes,
                 his song stirs an ache inside
                     of a kiss, of a sigh,

      She knows why…
              she knows how...
        and all she does,
           covets the flame at the end of tunnel...

there is light beyond this, am sure, i very much am!



starry said...

There is a light at the end of the tunnel and you will see it.

Priya said...

I totally loved it girl:))

Kuan Gung said...

Great images...power remains in that pen of yours neers...I love it...