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Scattered rose petals fall across
The tear-stained page.
They cover the blurred ink
With the bright color of hope.
All the angry crossed-out words
Fall hidden in a deep sleep
Covered by a blanket of smooth forgetfulness.
Everything creased, ripped, and burned
Falls still just to listen.
As a voice echoes through the open window
The world sighs in the beauty of the song.
And the wounds
They heal
To the sound of a thousand violins.
And white doves cover the sky
While cherubs play golden harps.
The wind blows simple words
Whispered in a tone most sincere
“I love you.”
