It Is Over, Part Two Poem by RIC BASTASA

after the arms entwined
like tendrils of
a very resilient vine
the door closes
like a sunset
filled with warm colors
of red and orange
and hard yellow egg yolk
and then fading
like a whisper
in my ear
that hears a word
bye

honey
see you later,

and then we say
such a short bursting moment
in the most private silence

(of our concealed existence
like a love letter
written a long long time ago)

is over and when we walk away
our separate paths
i to the north and you
to the south
we keep assuring our dream
weaver
that since we like this place
with you
then we must work for a rebirth

a tryst

somewhere though we
do not know
exactly when....