My Side of the Promise (Sonnet)

A gentle breeze brushes past surprised petals,
As an early morn’ finds a sky covered still-white.
No yellowish red rays escape these cotton levels,
And iridescent peacocks scream at the forgotten sight.

Leaves that let go and the fledglings that soar,
Seem wishing to go along with the waltzing air;
While all the senses ask a bliss moment more,
Memories seek refuge in a lost love affair.

Said she, as we parted, “Let memories be a sign
Of the fortuitous times our lives have spent –
And don’t recall a word, thought or deed of mine,
If even a trace might bring out your lament.”

I’ll cherish, thus, this sight and give my heart long lost delight,
For just like this rain on dry earth, it’s what will gift her, her respite.