@poetoflore We sat on the fragile church bench
At the brink of a bitter heart wrench
Asters quivered in a painful fist clench
Bare truths flowed for no particular quench
A part of me waited for a turn of phrase, a change of mind
A part of him waited for an action of the same kind,
The other part sighed over the wasted asters
Another wondered if we should've let love stay blind
As the purple of the asters slowly turned brown
We wondered if we should share a farewell frown
As the petals bled their pastel glories giving in to an imminent meltdown
Eerie silences screamed reverberating voices of fate's old clown.
No decisions were made, strengths now gone,
No new negotiations were dwelt upon...
The asters wilted, love hurriedly dispersed
But the fragile bench that seated two fragile egos mutely waited for a new dawn.
©Saranya Francis
Written for BPC Meet Sept 2019
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