Memories Of Unrequited Love Poem by Yohan Confectioner

My child cried out:
This could be
This could so be
The coming of the butterflies, birds
And honey of bees.

But the sky had turned
Its singular blue.
No haphazardness of clouds
Forcing figures in the sky.

The tone of reply
Reverberated through
The music of the cold wind,
Its melancholic stringed violin

Noting the still, exactness,
Of the chord,
Now torn and ravished
Echoing its sailing sound
Into the distance.




On memories of unrequited love 6.6.12