Miraculous it may seem,
Fate works its ways in us beings.
For never did I imagine could be,
What I seek’d in front of me.

Once I hanker’d and once I did receive,
Paints of memories and etch’d it did.
An innocent Romeo & Juliet story,
Coincidences in most everything.

Like the end of tragic Love stories,
Too ours perhaps guileless and naïve.
But these flowers its’ scent can’t be erased,
Even long after they’re gone we had our Time in some place.

Many times I’ve come and disappointed left.
Many tries for familiar sights to find; refresh.
Yet they seem to elude me with each and every visit,
By the bay, which for me have come to like.

Like may be too light a word used,
Heavy, it should be love the place I do.
Memories I hold dear survive at this bay,
And new paintings, pictures see I each stay.

Today must lucky have been my day,
Wait’d and our Eagle appear’d in soaring height.
Like Cupid’s arrow that dart’d across ye clear blue sky,
So too it was there, that His arrow shot me;
Making me Love’s blind.

That must have been all you’d say.
Elated I be this very day.
However just when all couldn’t be more bright,
Out came a little Eagle chasing His mother’s flight.

Oh how much glee they brought to me,
This day I regret not, myself by this sea.
For I know sometimes Thee doeth the same as me,
Try perhaps too, spot them and thinks’t of me.

I know Sorry is a word redundant,
When you have set out to eradicate me.
I know my explanations mean nothing,
For a verdict like a judge did pass me.

The reason for end is not as important as the ending,
This finale is not at all beautiful like stories seem.
But it may be best this way an end to all these,
For I realize myself too that anything to you I can’t promise.

I did enjoy your company, I really did.
Everything a memory I would still want to cherish.
Never did intend to use thee lik’d thee had deem’d me,
But it’s really not crucial the reasoning already.

For know myself more through knowing thee,
That in my heart someone else is still within me.
“Paint my memories” she did really,
A painting with varnish and medium to last for centuries.

Lest it be less use to say it,
It be best still the word to put it.
Thou do deserve someone better, someone that can give;
Sorry, that for you one is not me.