Retreating apart from bare sentences, revealed in the sun. You grieved even in the love we buried, within. For orchids, we cross, as in sadness, we depart, having left golden glimpses - for something among those sentences. Bare words, abandoned in descending light, lowering eyes that see where unity shattered. With grace, our sceneries mattered until turmoil had. Growing upon the next vine, no longer with the same thorns. Our eyes, no longer lovelorn see the sun on its climb. Back to love, back to our divine shape, upon the wire we stepped across, to meet our desire. Cherishing arms, wanting lips. Rivers that babble on towards the next doorway where no one leaves, nothing skips.