Modern Romanticism

Melted eyes
water gardens,
until cherished green
matches her spirit,
matches what's unseen
under silver rain.

Sadness can reveal
only what's bound to
surprise us.

With a form to caress,
a face to clean her tears,
I'll grant twin boughs,
pulling her close
into an eternal
state of bliss.

Red lips to kiss,
a heart to swim through,
I'll find a vine or two
to bind skin to skin,
pages to pages.

Merging our stories
to find our finality
beyond the last chapters.

Hope will not go
unrealized, while we
blend fervor with fever,
digging ever deeper
to see what comes next.