Grasp
She sits alone in the quiet room
watching the flickering shadows
echo across the walls.
As the tears roll down her face,
She thinks of an epic story
two lovers torn in two
by the twists of fate,
by the hands of God.
And the tears roll down her face.
This silent room, no clutter about
just a hardwood floor
to catch her tears
as they roll down her face.
Footsteps sound a knocking click
as they make their trek
across the same hard floor.
The tears stop their flow,
leaving twin salty streaks
in their place.
Eyes look up, shiny and wet
pain etched across their hazel depths
seeing all, seeing naught
but the shadow that stepped
into their path.
And a passionate war raged
between the grey and the hazel,
lifetimes flashing in each memory.
And a fingertip catches
one runaway tear
as it falls from the tip
of an upturned nose.
Pain, longing and sorrow
creep into steely grey
Those masculine eyes
that see so much
but hardly at all.
And that blunt fingertip
with its masculine nail
traces a scorching path,
to the cupid like lips,
to the shadowed hollow
of a feminine neck.
And the hazel eyes close
as desire flares,
ever so violent
between male and female
between man and woman
who love.
Great understanding, compassion,
gentle and tender
trusting and loyal.
As the stars to the sky
as the earth to the sun.
And the tears cease their flow
as those lovers love
for eternity.