Turning point

I would sing the flowers of their stalks
compel the stars and let them fall of the sky
to be your daily little comet

you,

who makes the morning worth wile
with friendly words
still in your robe
and sleep in your eyes

suddenly wiped away,
a turning-point

happiness so simple and pure
a wild rose on the window-sill
the wilting, dying in colours

it’s the wine out of the goblet
the blood that I drink
His body that I eat
how can He forget you

you were the sun
who lifted my burden
the love you gave
and never reclaimed

it’s a such a sin,
it’s an eternal shame.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere
07/11/2014