Should I not thank you, I sometimes wonder?
When the wind ruffles my hair and the sun goes under.
This torrent of words, gushing from my pen’s hollow
All bestowed by you, when our duet turned into solos.
I never thought much of life and death
For while you talked, I followed your breath.
Never saw the leaves being blown in designs
Not even nature’s art – resplendent and divine.
Closed were my senses to everything but you
I marvel now that the world is still new.
So much to see -birds, beasts and trees.
Now I begin to understand your legacy.
No one can write without an inheritance of pain
Or the exquisite pleasure of being drenched by the rain.
No longer bitter, this legacy has set me free.
Free to sweetly seal, an unfinished love story.