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 . . .