Wilt

By Madhumita Patil

A connection so strong,

Souls waiting for too long,

In the hope if love, to the realm, they hold on,

The dream stabbed before being born.

The kisses dwindle,

As the words turn to whispers,

Whispers that reach no ear.

The laughter that turns into silence,

Emotions on the fence.

Sensation of skin, now only a memory,

Created in a jiffy, that will last a century.

The only tangible memory, a scarlet bloom.

The petals turning black, eyes peering into the gloom.

Worn eyes, tears spilt,

By the sorrow of watching the scarlet wilt.

By Madhumita Patil