Letters To Milena Poem by Julian Takali

Wilt down they do, hounded by rain
Petal after petal, slowly they wane
Time in hands, moves a dance
Tick after tock, a wasted chance

Ease his steed every cowboy can
Master his music an artist must
Captain his mind a monk shall
Nurture his garden a florist will

But to calm your chaos is to answer why
To mend your storm is to see without eye
For your ferocity is that of none
For your love cannot be won
And that is why we'll grow sickly, tired and old
Alone, brittle and cold
Treading the ends of our roads

Stuck in yesteryear - trapped in mistrust
Needling the thread of lonesome wanderlust

Wilt down they do, hounded by rain
Petal after petal, slowly they wane
Time in hands, moves a dance
Tick after tock, a wasted chance