We Love in Vain

by Madeleine Richey

Lovers listen quietly,
Heads bent on downy pillows,
Eyes wide with amazement,
Enraptured with love’s sweet taste.

But years pass quietly,
Passion fades into useless dust,
We sigh and whisper our goodbyes
Tasting life not sweet but bitter now.

Old letters sit in locked up boxes,
Crumbling pages gathering dust,
Pictures yellowed, luster forgotten,
Memories to be burned on winter days.

And so we pass in death’s dark shadow,
Tainted by the love we waste,
Our whispered passion, lust, and roses,
Now burnt to ashy black remains.

Young love forsaken, cast aside,
Parting words sharp and tasting sour,
Last touch a hard and cold embrace,
Surrendered in futile search for better days.

Old and lonely, marked by time,
Hearts broken now, they barely beat,
Wrinkled fingers stained with salty tears,
Dead lovers buried beneath our feet.

If we love, is it in vain?