Then on a Sunday we would go for 
A stroll, across fields of spring 
Soaked grass, 
Hard to recall how long ago, 

Perhaps eight years or more, 
Struck with such awe, 
Holding hands, two star-crossed 
Lovebirds of teenage innocence we were, 
 
No one could shake the bond that 
We had back then, 
Dissenting voices of our kin, were 
But mere thorns, shaken off, 

Her band glowed brightly in the 
Light of the midday sun, 
A ruby or two, a small sum for your 
Love indeed, 

As envious mouths made many a
Weary comment, silent upon deaf 
Ears, all just meaningless to us, 

The doubters lay waiting to justify 
Their frowns, 
But only to be met with cold faces 
Of defiance, 

Then without single warning, the 
Seasons passed and leaves turned 
From their prettiest greens to their 
Dullest of browns, 

As if granted by some bitter 
Matron of jealousy, 
Green eyed foes of young love, 
Embraced a wish come true, 

Snow fell for the final time, as 
Scarlet hearts were shattered like 
Breaking ice on a frozen pond late 
At night, 

Greying drops of sadness, 
Splashed far down upon hands 
Pulling apart, in the most opposite 
Of directions, 

Like apples turned brown, once 
Bitten, left to decay, 
Love lay rotten, beneath the tree 
From which it had fallen, 

A decade of happiness, left raw 
And exposed to busy flies of 
Chatter, and malicious gossip, 

An unstoppable machine, had been 
Stopped, 
An infinite bond was now finite, a 
Paradise had been lost, 

Fields of spring no longer bring 
Happiness to that of a broken 
Heart, and the leaves remain 
Forever brown, 

Locked in this cold eternal winter, 
For how many years, unable to 
Express any hope, only fears,  

These tears are all that line the 
Place where your ruby band once 
Lay to rest, forever lost to loves 
Wilderness.