Ode to A Parted Love
It is such beauty as the blossoming flower,
People always say, in every sprightly spring.
To embrace it never shall we cower,
As flowers are not scared by the sun dazzling.
They bloom, with charm, careless like a vower,
Who avers perpetuity as something promising.
Beauteous they naturally are, yet what power,
Makes their beauty unnatural, and everlasting?
The seen beauty is transient, but the unseen,
Visits us so oft, bearing the same lingering scent,
Sweet as a lover’s woe, as memories to redeem.
May it for ever within our mind be locked.
And our imagination, which allows us to dream,
Marches dauntlessly to the far distant,
Mirage that lies faithfully in its scheme.
No time to recede, and no need to repent.
In the end the blossoms are fated to fade,
But through which beauty we have once met.
With the breeze of time, the petals do shed,
And dance in the air, like fire, reluctant to die out.
But they renders their beauty unspoiled,
Redolent of the bygone, which we oft tout.
Such is the power of love that it marked,
On all of us, a stigma of a life intact.