Deadened tree stump budded,
a flower was born, a divine bio-distillate,
A seal and bond conceived in depths of secrecy,
Beauty dripped and spread to environs,
The sea shell secreting a priceless pearl
To be cuddled, nourished, cherished.
The clock had not blended into icy routine
When much craved-for-touch ceased,
Previously dotted-on affection became a pest,
The lion's adrenaline controlled chase
has been satieted by the lovely catch,
what is the need for stealth and a display
of special hunting skills
with the catch within easy reach?
One wonders what happened to the many initial cuddles,
the gentleness and undivided attention,
placing in first position, ahead of all others
What happened to building together
to vision, dreams and execution.
Many years in, fifteen years in
and distilled created tenderness of a flower
Has absorbed fiery circumstances
Withstood thorns and thistles
Stones and rockiness, jaws and teeth clamping
on tender petals, crushing;
Pain drips daily, monthly, yearly
Fifteen years in.
Arrows piercing from within and without
Gall dripping on open wounds, searing hotly,
tearing at fragile flesh
Fifteen years in.
Seated on trauma dressed in sequin
Jaggedness covered by thin cussions.
The flower has withered from union,
Existing only in survival mode
until scales wriggle out of long standing blind eyes,
to reveal un-wholesomeness,
open wounds in need of treatment,
necrotic tissues in need of debridement,
Yet, lateness can correct but a little
lameness sets in place a glaring daily reminder
of failures knitted and entangled
fifteen years in.