“ like twains that never cross “
It spoke to me of us like a dream this photo, this grouping
of objects all frosted like a Winter’s chill unexpected in a miss
place moment.
An empty wine glass upon its side unused
the glass we never shared.
An empty cup unused
the morning coffee we never shared
As our eyes will never cross the way lovers do
The smiles we will never see
The talks we will never have
The remnants of flowers once wild that were and are no more
assembled for a gathering of sorts
A single white rose left too slowly die
to be ravished by a slow frost ever so slowly
drawing life from outside in
Everything left unresolved in the callused cold
of unspoken words
As each looked back only to find the other wasn’t
But then again the eyes will often miss read
what the heart can’t, won’t, or will not speak
like twains that never cross