Never looks back
He began his mortality as one, alone,
in his growing passionate years he found love and became two, together.
Sadly, only in time then, to be one again, by himself.
Simplicity is the picture painted by destiny,
as his story is that which is life’s common nature.
But as I look between the penciled etching of his life and that
which is the infinite canvas, I see the colors of dark storms and purple-orange sun sets,
blue waters and raging streams,
tender embraces and misunderstood dreams,
flowered yellow fields and emerald tears,
groans, and moans, contenting touches and nurturing hidden fears,
the brightest light and realities’ revealing mirrors,
year after year, after year.
The wind never looks back,
but from time to time,
it changes its face to reflect what looks like yours and mine,
wrapping itself around the windows of time.
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