The Lovers' Tale
by Jacqueline Thuault
Once, on a winter afternoon
A cold wind played a mournful tune
Snow falling from laden clouds
Smothered the earth with pallid shrouds
Candles flickered within the room
Their flames like stars piercing the gloom
Their sweet perfume spread everywhere
Orange blossoms wafted in air
Music ebbed and flowed like water
Violas cried, harps spoke softer
Cellos replied to the bereft sound
Keening and sobbing all around
In that bower far from the world
Where hopes and fears and desires swirled
A seed of something yet unnamed
Pierced through, waiting to be reclaimed
A thing once known then put aside
For one in pain cannot abide
To remember the joy that dwelt
Where only despair now is felt
A hope kindled by gentle touch
Silken caresses like none such
In far too long had been given
To one, or by the other taken
Our of the illusory union
Of two beings in transition
Founded on trust a bond was born
And soothed the spirits once forlorn
The force that made their worlds collide
And in that bower made them hide
Knew very well what lay hidden
Behind the act so forbidden
For while that day, or so it seems,
Was as evanescent as dreams
Their worth and strength were there regained
And for all times would be retained
Once on a winter afternoon
A perfect tryst ended too soon
Stillness and sound, light and shadow
An illusion, where time went slow