In love’s sweet moment

Of reaching one height or two

Time seems to stand still

While you listen to the

Petite-mort’s breathing

Your soul’s distant pulses

Of conquering one peak

And another…

That’s how the poet recalls

His experiences of ecstasy.

Later in life the artist lives

From these kind of memories

His past Muse has imprinted

In him 

For life’s never been

That sweet.

His spouse wanders on

Another plane

Another projection to life

The artist has tried visiting

Many times

Not that successfully.

Yet friendship still prevails

But like in love

Some friendly moments

On a congruent line of

Understanding

Last only a morning

A day

And no longer.

A called that bittersweet.

The bittersweet in love.

zoltanzelan

ZJG-POetry’19.