The Discarded Jewel Poem by Lora Colon

At the end of the well-trodden path
That I walk each lonely night,
A figure of ghostly pallor
Appeared in the moonlight

Sitting on the bench with lowered head,
His silver hair, streaked with gold
Fell forward, as hapless tears dropped -
A sad sight to behold

Dare I ask him why he sits alone
On a night so bleak and cold?
Dare I transgress his solitude
With inquiry so bold?

Somehow I found the courage to ask,
And he responded with scorn:
"If I were to die here tonight,
There'd be no one to mourn"

Seized with pity, I reached for his hands,
Gentler hands I've never known;
So warm and tender was his grasp,
Why was this man alone?

The air filled with panic as he spoke,
Like the cries of hunted birds;
Feeling defeated and hopeless,
Desolate were his words

He said it had been quite a long time
Since a woman held him tight;
I then drew him closer to me,
And held him through the night

First our breaths mingled, then our lips met,
My heart started beating fast,
His kiss tasted like vintage wine,
Thrilling me to the last

Silently we wallowed in our bliss,
How lucent the moon had grown;
Fate laid its hands upon our hearts -
The seeds of love were sown!

Hand in hand we left that lonely path,
Rewriting our destiny;
I knew I'd found a discarded jewel,
And took him home with me