His tears watered the little sapling
their love had grown
after she had gone
and manured it with
ashes of memories
remains of rotten feelings
and loam of broken desires
He oxiginated it with mournful sighs
till it grew too high
and you know what?
Tough covered with Evening Pride
its branches never bore fruit
But its roots
spread to the infiniteness
and sucked life
from the burrows of his soul.
