Once, it was marked in bold,
a date circled in promise,
dressed in vows
and borrowed hope.
But years have stripped it bare.
Now September passes quietly,
no trumpets, no weight,
just another square
on the calendar.
What was unforgettable
is forgettable.
What was sacred
is ordinary.
The vows dissolved,
the words unkept,
forever proved
to be a fragile thing.
And just like that,
this day no longer matters.
It comes,
it goes,
like any other,
taking nothing with it
but the memory
of how easily meaning fades.
No comments:
Post a Comment