A prophecy from the past.

We live in maybes and almosts, and tell ourselves no is for the forlorn,

Love’s around the corner, we won’t always be alone. 

We wear our hearts on our sleeves, but never soak them dry,

From the tears of days gone by.

Once, broken, I asked,

‘There are crystal hearts just waiting to be smashed,

And out to break them are the ones that never last’

– Truth, or just a prophecy from the past?

 

In response to : Prophecy.

 

 

Keeping love in photographs.

One face smiled at him, much brighter than the thirteen others.

Putting his family picture back inside his wallet, he took out another.

Now only one face smiled. His daughter. His little girl.

The war had been long. Too long and too cruel.

He was a changed man. With a pang he realized that everything back home had changed too.

His little girl was no longer little.

She had learnt about this cruel world too, he thought, as he knelt in front of her grave.