The orange autumn sky takes over
Their strangled love tower
Their entangled hands and
his void filled by hers.
Wrinkled eyes stare at each other
And lips formed two smiles,
The smile that hid thousands of untold moments,
And how they together walked miles..
Elderly, as they were called,
Along with the old endearment they beared,
They hold it inside their bygone hearts,
But again, they feared.
They feared that they were a sack in the hating eyes,
But in real, others couldn't recognise,
That they took each other's load
With gentle care, the seeds of their love was sowed.
Their vintage love was actually juvenile,
Their young affection being concealed;
With brown folded letters, books, library dates
Those yellow pages held their memories from decades.
They sat where they had their first tryst,
stargazing at the peak of her favourite hills.
Momentary dates, filled with happy choir,
She gifted him with the best typewriter
While he plucked a flower to put in her hair.
The old, shrunken rose,
Inside the pages of that old novel they found.
He read for her when her head laid on his shoulder,
Their hands kept bound.
The rose that wrinkled just as their wrinkled hands,
Those wrinkled hands incapable,
shaking but still held the other,
They returned to their lonely lands.
Their story was special,
more special than today's automated stories.
Their story held the reality which bespoke
Their unrevealed glory.
On decayed, yellow paper
Their story was written with gold
But delicately inside their hearts,
Their unique story was hold.
Feeling the leaves fall that wash over their hidden agony
they bleed but in silence.
The two young hearts, gradually inching towards death
Those young hearts which were destined to meet,
Destined to grow old together,
And end up until their last breath...
Editor:rioakapoco
