We cannot be, yet we are;

souls apart, but together: 

fools romantic, believing 

in destiny’s charms when

only the bleak landscape 

remains of passion and love.

 

And we look hoping across

the village green of our former 

love; but nothing but desert 

sand and parched despair is 

left and even the dripping fruit 

of imagination has long dried.

 

18/6/2020