That was another lifetime
Stepped they briefly on a different, winding path,
Trod lightly on the present sense of future,
Glanced hesitantly o’er ghosts of futures passed.
They danced among the thorns of petalled perfume,
Inhaled the scent of floral bouquest’s jest,
Bowed humbly to inevitable conclusion,
Accepted that sometimes fate and life knew best.
Simpler yet than dancing in the moonlight,
In waxing moon while naked to their form,
Was trust in love, far more encompassing
Than considered yet or realised as the norm.
scottishmomus 