The last harvest

Whose path did we cross to come this way?

 in the blind turn of the road

we will never know

whom we met for the last time

 

The curling smoke around those

mist laden valleys have stories to tell

of you and me

sitting in the dark night

stoking the fire of passion

drying around those lips

 

Whose flicker were the last words?

we will never know in dying memories

crystallising in the myth of time

 

We will never know the last leaf to fall

the last snow to melt

in the never remembered winter

 

Disparate time passes under those lips

like  waters of different summers 

tracing paths along banks of remembrance

 

In the smoke filled valleys

of wilted flowers and dying dreams

we will never know the last lily

which smelt not of gunpowders

 

Histories bind when centuries disappear

in moments of immortality

I and you

before we kiss it adieu

lets send a tear filled letter

to this last cloud on the horizon

whose moistness will dance

for the last time among the waves

before it rains down

for the last hands to caress

the last harvest, the last existence