Untitled
Moments be gone
that cannot be controlled.
Let memories be sweet
in the furture untold.
Small buds of promise
left to wither and dry
in the minds of the fearful
who dare not to try.
Drown in a crimson river
that flows beyond its sands.
A tide to be stemmed
runs through weak hands.
Its life is the love
beyond wisdom and choice -
the reminder of freedom
one hopes never to voice.
Tears without moisture.
Sobs yet to borrow.
The scent in the air
is the death of tomorrow.
A garden of joy?
So much is not to be.
Trapped by thorns of time -
release me.
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