Shaken, not stirred

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There was a time
when they read each other like a book
turned the page each day
to a new line
as the years rolled into one
the book frayed
the pages became fragile, with weight
and no discernible lines
as they smiled through the cracked veneer
of once hallowed ground
no one the wiser
except his heart that yearned
yearned for what once was
and now knows, can never be
the fairytale, he hoped it could have been
because he couldn’t leave.

a dawn bird

In response to RPD – Monday – Stir

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