the fall
The memories of love gather like drifting leaves in the turbulent winds.
No longer floating arranged in the calm,
yet remain as poignant as two swans floating side by side.
I call upon them not to remain, relive, or to remake the past.
I know they belong behind, right where they should be.
Like the roots of a tree, they lie underground unseen, but not forgotten.
Its trunk and branches growing high into the clouds
Serving as constant reminders of what once was.
They will continue to thrive,
budding fruit that view pictures of what life now presents.