A Poet's Nostalgia

Petals of red float on the stream
Where once had bled a poet’s dream.
Now punished by cold fear
He wept profusely year by year.
And day by day the crying grew;
Became the mornings new fresh dew,
And dreams that by another fell
Became the mornings redened hell.
Leaves of gold float on the stream
Which once had known a lover’s dream.
Now pining one not there
She suffered profusely year by year.
And day by day the stillness grew
Became the mornings new fresh dew.
And dreams that once held breath
Became unknown since she kissed death