Finite emotions
we once thought never-ending
last only with hope/
And hope is like fire
warm, inviting but fragile
dead in whisper sigh/
And in winter night
when cold devours hearts most warm
like frost to foliage/
We discover truth
that despite “endless” passions
“fate” can meet demise/
A fact so certain
as true as the light of day
dying with the night.
