Postscript to a spledid relationship (one of my poems, taste it)

It is never fun to say adieu.

The eyes of my mind still see you there:
a bouquet of flowers, a smile,
the colour of love in your eyes,
the feeling of warmth from your heart
around us people singing, clapping,
cameras flashing, snapping,
bearing witness to a punctuation mark
of Time.

That was then.

Now you’re no longer there. Gone.
There are things that should be undone
words that must be unsaid,
if only I could.
In the bank of our memories, I, the archivist,
shuffle through file upon file, page after page,
wondering why the day you gave me the red rose
our Time did not stand still.