Sweet Solitude

Sorrow is stagnant in sad winter light.
It's reminiscent puffs lingering in
Blue frosted glass and fragmented mirror.

Wisps inducing shades of many colors,
Blue frosted glass' liquid soothing
Away black thoughts shadowed by wretched hate.

A mirror lies in shards of broken dreams
And thoughts of the happiness that could be,
Sticky red edges laced with lousy plots.

Could all end tomorrow or maybe not,
Love delayed at the station, made to walk.
Will there be time or will love outlive time?

None can tell nor live to tell, only wait.

Penned by my hand on the 15th of Mayan, in the year 428 AF.