Flavia Cosma

I'll be forgetting you,
When the thin thread of grass
Snaps in two.

I'll be forgiving you
When time, like a sponge,
Erases your image
From my heart's wall.

The golden-feathered bird
Was never ours to have.

On a deep and bleeding wound
We scattered bitter words,
A salty, burning load.

The moon hides; the night darkens,
Heavy mists whirl far into an abyss;
Moist, the earth smells
Of mint leaves.
Under heavy rain drops
Frail lily-white flowers genuflect,
Their faces in the dust.

Life carries us forward,