a love which could be overflowing
is lost amid the sorrow of by-gone days.
Ever present in a heartbeat or silent tear
an endless rending of the soul, another year
how quickly love grows yet it never stays.
Man is a fickle creature with a heart of stardust
in not seeing what he has, endlessly search he must
for what he thinks he does not own.
So carelessly he tosses away the gentle soul
with time and space his actions feel the toll
of the love discarded for the now, unknown.