The Story

Have we not all,
A story to tell?
Be it of angel’s ball,
Or of demons and hell.

Quite different this one is
With characters who lack verbs.
Of her and a few of his
Feelings short of words.

Of too many chances
And a few surprises.
Some unrealized fancies.
Some unclaimed prizes.

A few miracles and magic
And of just those few.
Of jokers so tragic,
The end, they already knew.

Of hopes too high,
And of fears higher.
Of burning ice in one eye,
Another with frozen fire.

Of worthless secrets,
Safe down the river bed,
Painted memories, regrets
In the colors they shed.

Of faces, so expressionless,
Could only look numb.
Of steps, so effortless,
Sounded dumb, dumb!

Of an empty space in between.
Of the pitter and the patter.
Everything that emerged within,
Of best things, just not better.

Of a few frenzied curses
Disappeared, as they fell
In a song of silent verses,
Unsung, for an undone spell.

Of fists opening limply,
Of fingers letting go
A story that lately
Its characters only know.