by lina
Deadened tree stump budded, a flower was born, a divine bio-distillate, A seal and bond conceived in depths of secrecy, Beauty dripped and spread to environs, The sea shell secreting a priceless pearl To be cuddled, nourished, cherished. The clock had not blended into icy routine When much craved-for-touch ceased, Previously dotted-on affection became a pest, The lion's adrenaline controlled chase has been satieted by the lovely catch, what is the need for stealth and a display of special hunting skills with the catch within easy reach? One wonders what happened to the many initial cuddles, the gentleness and undivided attention, placing in first position, ahead of all others What happened to building together to vision, dreams and execution. Many years in, fifteen years in and distilled created tenderness of a flower Has absorbed fiery circumstances Withstood thorns and thistles Stones and rockiness, jaws and teeth clamping on tender petals, crushing; Pain drips daily, monthly, yearly Fifteen years in. Arrows piercing from within and without Gall dripping on open wounds, searing hotly, tearing at fragile flesh Fifteen years in. Seated on trauma dressed in sequin Jaggedness covered by thin cussions. The flower has withered from union, Existing only in survival mode until scales wriggle out of long standing blind eyes, to reveal un-wholesomeness, open wounds in need of treatment, necrotic tissues in need of debridement, Yet, lateness can correct but a little lameness sets in place a glaring daily reminder of failures knitted and entangled fifteen years in.