“It’s teatime,” she said
Screaming inside, his emotions dead
Wishing it was him instead
Just a cloud of wordless steam
Willing it all to be a dream
Wanting for once, to be seen
In petty pride, she basked
“2 years or 40?” he asked
Never knew their last, would be the last
Swallowed tears, left bitter taste
Gravelly grief, drunk in haste
Wasted time, now lying in waste
Could they turn back the time wasted?
Reaching out, to the memories faded
All along while they waited
For a miracle, in their lonely lives
To be frozen under the Venetian sky
With the moon as their alibi.
Written as a tribute to the poetically woven story and film, My Policeman.
Linked to W3 Prompt #28 – Poem with Chiasmus
(Image from Google)