Poem – “At the Next Doorway” – Modern Romanticism – 12/25/2021

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.

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