Chanson d’Amour

By Joseph Prem

The poets we know today owe

It to him and the colors he paints

while sinking down into the abyss,

only to wake the poet in you the next day.

The breeze passing notes

from one,

while the other is resting,

I wonder, is the Moon still searching for him

in the dark?

The Sun hides his craftsmanship

while going down.

The few minutes of twilight deserve

more appreciation.

It's the time where they meet and greet

from distance,

only to lose themselves

once again.

If giving up felt too easy,

evidently there was never anything

worth fighting for.

And if there was something invaluable,

undeniably there's no giving up.

By Joseph Prem