Last eve heard a tiny bird singing words to the world,
“history does not remember the things that do not happen.”
I fell into thought and lost myself to time,
let the slow dew of never fall gently from my cheek.
The stormy sea that slowly surrounded me
was alive with waves of “never to be.”
We walked; the rain not touching our souls,
We danced; our fingers never entangled,
We kissed; with no brush of lips,
We fell; without rhyme or reason,
We loved; missing its impassioned embrace,
We spoke; never making a sound,
We promised; things that were never to be.
Oh how I remember the things that never happened,
and I shall hold their memories close.
© Oct 12, 2013 ~ DBC, Duke of the Arctic