We used to walk the path together
whenever I stopped by,
arm in arm, slowly wandering,
spying every hidden thing
that grew or crawled
just beneath the surface
of a casual glance;
time waited and watched
like a doting father,
never continuing its journey
until ours was complete.
It was paradise…
It was paradise…
One day I visited,
not knowing
you had hidden something
in the woods,
just off the path, something
that bound you tightly
in fear and shame, something
from which you felt
you would never be free;
I asked, as I always did,
if we might take a stroll together,
but you declined, first timidly,
then with ever-growing intensity
as I pressed you further,
until you left me
standing at the gate,
with words you could never take back
still ringing in my ears.
We used to walk the path together
whenever I stopped by,
but now we do not walk,
or even speak,
and I will never know why.
