The Last Ember

Not the first burn-it-all-down 
An aftermath of broken hearts
In the relief of at last it's done
Or undone yet again in the fever pitch

Of how the cycle returns to itself
with a hundred matches lite under
The vulnerable exposure of choices
Incongruent with each other, writhing

Looking for that patch of green
Under the April showers to bath in
From the smoke and faltering
Cinders laid to waste by the 

Try to hard yet again and again
By the lashing beseech of lost 
Yesterdays yearning to free the heart
Outcasted on a lonely patch of Spring

Waiting for a renewal
Waiting to be the seed planted
Waiting for the rain to drown
The last ember 

copyright. jeanne adwani