This might be the last chapter
my life opens to me.
This might be one of those last stories
written beside the rotting tree.
The previous chapter
was dreamy , dread and dreary.
It was long and calm
but it died with the fleeting fairy.
The words feel beautiful, peaceful and serene
as i look into your eyes.
Rain no more feels gloomy
and nights full of lies.
I might be writing the last verse
for her and first verse for you.
But beside this rotting tree
a new bud arises , calm and true.