When tenderness turns away,
Hope breathes a final sigh.
Life reverts to shades of grey –
Love, once fluid, turns brittle and dry.

Zephyrs that often piqued an interest
And brought exotic dreams to fore –
Die as doldrums, unimpressed;
To leave one haunted, wanting more.

If Passion is Love's celebration,
The verve and spirit of its vigor -
Then Tenderness is its reflection –
In absentia; brings callousness and rancor.

In the quiet times, when passion sleeps -
Touch me softly in tenderness-
Delicate wonders that Love's company keeps
To remind me again with sweet gentleness.

Alas, when tenderness turns away,
Lost to deaf ears, that final sigh –
Love is loathe to wait or to stay,
Hearts cease to beat and Love does die.

Lin Cava©