Here lies a foolish heart
Slayed by its own hand
A hand that had extended
To reach out and hold on to
A love that was lost
….in a nebulous dream.
Maybe someday, in a requiem
The dream shall offer a rose, red or white
But buried, deep under
Its own weight, can it ever revive?
Feel the touch, smell the aroma.
Alas! A heart is born only once
In peace let it lie, let it die…
Perhaps, in moments of solitude…
The rose may miss
Lying on the heart’s grave
Touch it, feel its cold warmth
By then, it shall be too late…
Fossilized into an epitaph stone.