a secret paradise

within a secret paradise 
we gave our time and hearts 
to further our entanglement 
in duties, fits, and starts -- 
we touched the ceiling of the sky, 
that pure-blue canopy -- 
  so young, and so unwise, 
  in secret paradise. 

the shadows, once an aqua-green, 
gave way to dark and gray: 
we thought we'd never end, for there 
was always one more day -- 
but silence comes with separateness, 
and all eyes come to see 
  the time is just a slice 
  in secret paradise.

the memory now lives on, but only 
for a little while; 
our paths are merely leaves we move 
for all our wit, and guile -- 
but still, such colors as can make 
a sweet day come to be 
  are worth the timeless price 
  of secret paradise.

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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