Un-together.

Under the wide wings of the Banyan Tree,
you told me the tales of a glorious past.
Of wonders, thrills and disappointments.
I listened, with wonder, and part-boredom.
The debt of a friend had to be paid.

A flinch, here and there, time and again.
Yet, the drops of a Heaven Gone lay frozen.
Warmth spread to their frigid hearts,
and behold! Here comes a river!
Bringing with it, ashes of the past.

A veil of concern and a facade of care.
An eternity of nursing brought you back.
And yet, there lingered a sickly stench.
Aroma therapy doubled-up and wailed,
while sickness and fatigue budged not.

Nothing works, except a divine salve;
Go, fetch the hemlock, I care not!
Go, fetch the thorns of reality, no bother!
Bring home the chaos of War, I shall fight!
Keep those florid words to yourself,
for they mean naught. They never did.