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******************************************* Ahead of every sunset
are young lovers
perched on a barren hilltop
Enfolded in each other’s embrace
Gaping at the spectacle
Not knowing it’s their last
Then a man,
and a woman
somewhere in the periphery
With quiet aches
burning nostalgias
off their tongues
Praying they could
turn back time
When the chance
was just right there
In the heat and pulls
of their chests

Across them,
Two old lovers
riddled with greys in their hairs
and withers on their skin
Perhaps a manifestation
of what could have been... Elle Bor