Once there was a sacred urn Where fragrant oil flowed no end A pair of birds watched love’s spring And drank for life the sweetest blend
But alas! Who broke this jar? A witch? A thief? A crow in white dove’s feathers? (A wolf in sheep’s clothes?)
The bantam pair did all they can to mend this sacred urn of sweetest blend of fragrant oil, of nectar flow no end. The scars still hurt, the cracks send drops of potion seeping through sand.
Will they live happily ever after? As fairy tales always end?
Today’s awaiting for the next Chapter The unopened pages are reserved for tomorrow . . .