Monday, 19 January 2015

Not All Things Happen

The moon was not full on that fateless night.
Two would-be lovers missed their only cue,
and pristine sheets remained intact.

No glass was thrown in anger at a wall;
the red wine was not spilled upon the carpet;
and blows were not exchanged.

No feast was held in honour of an honoured guest;
no speech was made; no glasses charged and raised;
relief’s sighed exhalation broke no tension.

Unwritten poems roamed through restless heads,
but found no place to rest upon the page;
those undiscovered truths lay undiscovered.

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