Tuesday, 26 June 2018

Where Rainbows Die



This time, this life, was not meant to be
For you and I to share our joie de vivre
But perhaps there's a place, a parallel conjunction
Where we are together, forever, without compunction

In a reverie, I can see him there, is he playing possum?
Amongst the verdant grasses, beneath the pinkish hue of adorning blossom
And he's smiling and giggling with his merry larking
As an angel and butterflies espy, with a dog and its tail wagging barking

But the here and now is invisible lines that we cannot cross
With those maudlin feelings akin to loss
But perhaps somewhere, someplace, we're sharing pillows
And having lazy picnics beneath weeping willows

In this life are we victims that have been robbed?
For there's no menage a cinq, or even a dog named Bob!
Although I sense, can almost feel, the sound of carefree laughter
Is that you and I together and living happily ever after?

But in a nagging, dreadful dream, I can see the end of days
As winter kills the last warmth of our summers' rays
And reality lies in the lines of a different story
Where rainbows die, unnoticed, and without furore

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