Looking out all I can see are manicured lawns,
Perfect flower beds and the blandness.
What happened to us.
When did we change from hot bloody quarrels
To this.
You have become my mother and I your son.
An old man before his time.
You, closer to blue rinses.
But why,
What delusion of the mind
Triggers such decay.
I have become moribund with you.

Remember the wildness.
The great hopes and the seeding.
Our fruits have long wandered away,
And we remain transfixed by serendipity,
Crystallised into the afterlife of marriage.
Where passions run dry like the desert streams.
I long for the old ways.
The mad recklessness of each other,
The overgrown gnarled wildness of our garden,
Where we were irreverent and irresistible.
Sadness, happiness and joy always the same.
I want to blow away the sediments of experience,
I want my passions to flow again,
Becoming feckless.
I am not the dimmed light,
Fading with you into the night.
Let us burn brightly one last time.


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