The bird that flew

The rose is dying; fading, petals falling one by one. The colours of the sky too soon fade. A single stem alight by sorry stars, this life is done. She sits alone lamenting in the moonlight shade.

To him the world is but a spectrum of grey. Hope, an extinguished flame. Never to be alight again they pray. There was no room for neither suffering nor blame.

Through streets of broken glass they tread. Friendships founded on damage and deceit. To one another they were lead. Months passed by, he wondered would they ever again meet?