The thumb-nail of a balmy moon

Means that he will pass by soon.

She’s kindled a candle set on the sill

To show him she is waiting still,

As he climbs towards the evening star;

So near, and yet, so far.


The loamy dusk soaks up the twi-

Light sandalwood-scented sunset sky,

As he wends his way up Blossom Hill,

He sees the light upon the sill

Through the aromatic gloam,

And wonders, ‘Is she home?’.


In inky shadows of the eaves,

Below the low-slung Tamarind leaves,

Concealed in her aphotic dim,

Tormented by the sight of him,

He doesn’t turn towards her door,

She dies a little more.


Bitter drowns sweet eventually –

She’ll watch him for eternity.

Since forty years their fate was cast

And bore the consequence of the past,

Surrendered to the village norms

Their dreams up to the storms.


The scars are gone, but broken dreams

Seldom heal, and go unseen,

Through aeons on a tide of tears,

Perpetual time and un-lived years,

Knowing that she’ll wait for him:

The patience of a pilgrim.


© Alex Barton 2013


About Alex Barton
This entry was posted in Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to FORBIDDEN

  1. I love the story of unrequited love, a simple rhythm and rhyme scheme lets the story tell itself unobtrusively. Well done, and good picture to go with it.

    • Alex Barton says:

      Life’s been busy lately and I’ve been neglecting my duty of replying to kind people who comment on my posts: So, thank you belatedly for your comment and glad you liked the poem/story.

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