The lovers moved, hand-in-hand
Through a misty morning, a sunny afternoon
A windy evening, a calm night
Always, one hand in another
But was it them holding hands or him holding hers?
They say many years ago,
Came a traveller brave.
Fought many wars, his battle-scarred chest out in humble pride
He fought the peoples’ battles, protected their dreams
The one he could not win was with himself –
For she inundated his heart with a gale so strong, a storm so severe
Was it them fighting battles together, or him fighting her battles for her?
Then up above the sky
The throaty pigeon comes home, morsels for his betrothed
Clutched lovingly in his paws
Their beaks meet, their eyes avert, for they are still young
Is it the love between them that sustains them, or his love for her?
Whether children of today, couples of yesterday or pigeons who know not our love
Their world will fall apart one day, if not for:
One word, seven letters.
And many summers to come, many winters to face
Through springs of togetherness – but they’ll be short, if not for
One word, seven letters
As I run through time, keeping the curtain closed
On the beating heart thudding with anxiety
I try, and I try, and I try.
For without it – one word, seven letters:
All will end, ‘til when can the parasite keep on feeding from the plant before it dies?