THE UNSAID

The advent of an enlightening dawn, a picturesque misty morning’s grace

Profound darkness and grief, can it still happen to embrace?

The incapable dried up ink becomes a testimony

Of an age old laconic fable left incomplete, unsaid.

Resurrection season of spring accompanies an unparalleled glee

Yet it cannot write off the possibility of autumn’s melancholy.

The untimely incessant rainfall which can shield the drops of cries

Might actually be depicting the concern of the perturbed skies.

Dry withered leaves part ways to bid adieu to the ever supportive branch

To begin a new journey with the disoriented wind en route to a misfortune avalanche

The flow of alluring dreams in plenty

Is a misleading facade or a gesture towards an upcoming reality?

Such was an age old short and sweet fable

Left abandoned, incomplete, unheard and unsaid.