~*~
I tried to forgive the unforgivable,
Tried to stitch the gorge of betrayal
By the dust coated silver lining
Of reminiscences, eroded and weathered.
I tried to hold rancour against the sweet.
Tried to burn the long aged wine,
As the fresh plum juice disappeared
And the flames of time had dropped the dime.
But now for once, I kneel.
Powerless to fate, for she led me to see,
The skeletons in the gorge,
And the bouquet of the wine.
~*~
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Cottage Chronicles
PoetryLife's chronicles from love, sorrow, anger, guilt, shame, happiness buried in a poetic cipher. Would you like some words and wine, on wooden floorboards? ©️ Feronia Grey
