Lament For A Lost Love Poem by Mary Champion

I remember
the faint aroma of petrichor,
as the gentle rain soaked through the trees
of the parched woods.

This is the place
where we stood, locked in each other's arms,
when our love still promised fulfilment
of all our dreams.

We could not know,
small dark seeds of ruin were swelling -
scattered by fickle fortune, unseen
until too late.

Oft have I thought
how the thousand nights of perfect bliss
that preceded the unwilled fracture
might be renewed.