An Apology

By S. Viswanathan

I stole a piece of gold my love,

And stored it safe in ores,

I stole the dawn that glows above,

To paint the stars of lore.

Beneath the ore, the starry night,

We lay there quiet and sore,

Treasure that was so bright at sight,

Remains dispersed ashore.

Regrets like pieces may align,

In puzzling boards of fate,

Your hands will scramble all of mine -

For that a day shall wait.

By S. Viswanathan