The promise

Cold winter breeze
over a sleepy oak forest.
The promise of a kiss, a ritual
before the long sleep.

Her cold breath,
whispering,
warm melodies of her world.
His jaded eyes
waiting,
for the silence
in memories of her words.

The leaves now yellow,
the sky turned
gray and still.
For his love will soon be harsh,
and his patience
ravaged, within.

From eternity,
she is traveling
holding the answer
under her lips.
Fidelity dies with love,
even time doesn’t mend
the broken strings.

Her melody,
now broken, and her love,
blue and still.
She whispered in his ears,
the promise,
to come back next spring.

His twigs flickered,
to reach her,
one last time.
She kissed him
with her cold lips, he is
pleased with the
gentle lie.

The unsung story,
of his youth, will soon
fly with her,
beyond far.
She didn’t age in
centuries,
her tiring youth,
forgotten with
a new start.

He closed his eyes
as she drifted past him,
the leaves followed her,
shyly,
for some time.

She carried them awhile,
for she loved him,
dearly.
But, the pale leaves,
now, free from
the promise,
fell behind
peacefully,
on the ground.