Beyond Our Last Tomorrow

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Dedicated to the one I love.

Beyond our last tomorrow
by Theena Kumaragurunathan

Love comes in four seasons:
Spring, when the heart’s flower blooms
To the gentle rays of young love;
Summer sees the flower become
The root of greater gardens;
Autumn and the flower begets
The remembrance of its past so joyous;
Winter comes last - not harsh nor cold
Yet unwelcome still for its promptitude.
I speak of the spring of our love -
The dawning of metamorphosis most beautiful.

I greet the sun with a smile on my face,
I long to behold - perchance sight - your face,
I write long winded verses of my love.
My love, if for a moment you imagine -
Imagine our moments for the remaining seasons -
You will see that our love like that flower be.
And as I write this, I ask, as you may,
What of winter and beyond? What of our love then?
With winter we become seeds of cross-pollinatory rhyme,
Lost to the winds, beyond our last tomorrow.

I wrote this a month or so back for my girlfriend. Felt like sharing this since I have nothing to rant, rave or yack about.

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