Andy Sprouse | + Follow Poet |
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Bittersweet Reverie

My soul's eyes look upon the past,
and see hers meet mine for the first time;
I watch as our love's die is cast,
as the bells signaling our fates chime.

I watch as the fires within us ignite,
as everything we will be finds its beginnings;
this love at first sight burns ever so bright,
making our hearts rejoice at their lofty winnings.

I watch every passionate, yet tender
moment flow by, again kindling my emotions;
to her, I watch myself surrender,
diving into her love's boundless oceans.

I watch as we smile,
as we laugh and love.
We were convinced this would last awhile;
that this was ordained far above.

Then, we foundered, led ourselves astray;
her passion whisked away as if by a thief.
At this, I strive to look away,
to turn my gaze from this pain and grief.

But no man can shy away from the truth
of what he had and what he's lost.
He must forever contend with the mistakes of youth,
tears shed in vain and pain his cost.

Therefore I watch as the embers die,
as she turns away, headed for that door.
I watch as what I thought would be our life goes awry;
as we fade away, becoming no more.

I watch as she sheds
herself of what we were, gives up on me;
I watch as she tears into shreds
the heart I gave to her, and scatters the debris.

At length, after much introspection
I begin to wonder and muse;
if I had a chance to go back and make a correction,
what would I do to prevent these blues?

Would I try to discover the source
of her disaffection and our loss;
or would I simply plot a new course
from the start, never letting our stars cross?

They say that it's better to have loved and lost
than never to have loved at all;
but my disconsolate heart thinks that this has glossed
over the true depth of a spent heart's fall.

The beaten, weary soul knows not whether to pay heed
to the maxims of those dead and gone;
knows not whether to concede
that there might indeed someday be a new dawn.

At long last I reach the end of this vision,
the tragic finale of this bittersweet reverie.
The sad reality settles on me, of our division;
no greater agony exists in my memory.

Copyright © Andy Sprouse | Year Posted 2012

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