Tuesday, March 13, 2012

When true love dies

What thoughts were mine
What dreams were yours
What words should rhyme
Which ones turn to prose
How do we decide
When true love dies

How do we separate
The tangled webs
Of our lives
When true love dies

What comb, what brush
What hallowed hands
Can untie the knots
Can unhook the strands

When true love dies
When the doors are closed
I don't know what is mine
I don't know what is yours

1 comment:

Madhu said...

The 3rd stanza bears trochaic resemblance to Blakes "The Tyger" :)
(3rd and 4th stanzas of Blake)

Very poignant and delicate entwining of word and thought.