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
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