Where Wild Flowers Still Grow Poem by Ian Shatss

I never thought I'd be the one
to say goodbye —
to sever ties in twilight waters,
beneath a weeping sky.

The mortality of our love,
once rooted in strength,
now torn from the ground,
as we accept our wistful fate.

This love —
a river once flowing as one —
now parts into channels of its own,
carving new pathways
through the valley of life,

leaving a small meadow
on the outskirts of our hearts —
where wildflowers of love still grow,
their petals preserved in time.