Let me not to the divorce of failed love
apportion blame. Loss is less loss
when future dreams, today undreamed of
can be fashioned from the former dross.
O no; do not fixate on right and wrong
for each will be each in the great span of time.
A singer stops singing in the middle of the song
yet the melody survives. The verses still rhyme.
Love's not about forever, its time frame is now.
A passing to be grieved, and thus, to be passed.
Thriving best amid promise, it withers in vow
-- arriving bejewelled, in garments made to last.
If this be in error, and upon me charged,
May my heart become shrunken, my prostate enlarged.
© Ciprianowords, Inc. 2014