Colors of the night parted
Prisms of light
Not for the faint-hearted
Reflecting the dispersion of an affair
Saying that now you are not as you were
The frontiers are not north or south, east or west
A nervous matter at best.
The renewal of broken relations
Lock safe with a million combinations
A thousand scientific equations
Undiffused, separate and rigidly alone
House of one room, piled up stone
The corner of creation
Shines through a temperament
Framed for another time
The sentiment is evident
Given the image of what is actually seen
Forgetting everything that has been
And the best and the worst of this is
That neither is to blame.
The answer remains the same.
© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved. 2020.