I. The Bridge –
I found myself smirking soon after the split
And having once promised emerald grass,
I'd leave only daisies come remains
And the empty shakes she’d sunder;
So the ropes broke, with her sixth and final rupture –
We'd tried a bridge, but our promised lands differed.
II. The Chasm –
I found mine a stride prior and second’s sudden after smirk
And having shed our token’s hindrance,
My third finger’d be bare when we’d settled the gold wrought writ;
Her mother's purchase and our lasting, so very lasting lie,
Maimed, if only to preserve my “other’s” heart –
Stained wine, stuffed rice and far behind my apple orchards fence.
III. The Saved –
Sure, I’d find my second wind, maybe even fourth and
In eternity atop the earlier apple bitten, beholden, the other fruits.
It’s all revealed in a feast come home and cobweb's promised -
“We’ll welcome what’s ours,” the newest jubilant whilst my
Stake pierces soil, ushered and the youngest would arrive home –
Oh! And so, songs would be sung tonight!