Unrequited Love

UNREQUITED LOVE She was a virgin, forgotten by the eyes of men. He noticed her smile. He never asked where she'd been. They remained friends until the last leaf. They knew love's beauty; its longing, sorrow, and grief. Decay stalks the dead like a cougar proud and lean while under snow in the forest, they dream imaginative dreams. A cold wind blows leaves over their caskets dim; and then there is silence in remembrance of them. Unrequited love does not perish all alone. It whispers through the forest: "I love you. You are my own." Janet Marie Bingham