Little by little
The thought of separation despised me,
the distance between the two horrified me,
the ignorance, the wait, tortured me.
Little by little, feelings were turned into fragments of flowers,
with the wind in the open garden, they flew for another hour.
Little by little, the memories flashed and the fountain of tears were once again
a pool of fears.
The degree of separation was never a reason
but lack of faith was always a treason.
The days have passed yet the box is empty,
maybe for once a quill will be handy.
Not for a moment but for years,
the stain of ink will remind me of you.
A poem.
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