A song of infinite

Author: zmzlois


A poem on love

I am the bloom await to burgeon for you since winter;
You are the only burning iron in snow.
I never have any memories about you;
My breather's silent echo is true.

I think I've waited, patient and free;
Yearning for someone to let me be me.
I have said there are flowers unbidden in the world;
You casted with doubt.
And said flowers might choose to withhold;
Just like me.

I am the candle melded into your form.
You extinguished the fire waiting.
You knew I had tried the taste of tears.
All kinds of them.

We shall write a show together, you said;
A show of me thinking about you only.
You will mold my essence, dough of my design.
A version of me guarding your trembling hands.

Are you listening?
Your heat is running in my vein.
Is one lifetime enough?
I am singing the love song of infinite.

I heard tales of life's hardship;
So let's craft a story of you and me defying gravity.
I don't think I am thinking about you.
I am thinking about the tapestry of love all over the sky.
It's not blood running in your body.
But my fervent tears, a symphony's sign.

I lost the lock;
Why do I need keys anyways?
You have them all.

But you said we need to finish the show,
A script to be played, untold.
I always said you don't have a plan.
You said ain't we all wandering souls?
I know now.

Where are you exactly?
In this endless quest of mine.
Where is everyone?
Am I but a resounding echo in the valley?
Or will you ever return, as the first snow bestows?