Of Love Letters and Forbidden Chords

One day the love letter came no more.
The postman did not knock,
Neither did a rush of excitement
reach the cheeks in that day of loss.
The birds stopped singing,
The bell stopped ringing
and the flowers wilted in the pot.
Clouds filled the air in that morn’s frost
and the heart –once beaming--is now unwanted
like the music’s forbidden chords.
What now?
Keep on living, I suppose,
Time comes when the pains finally pause
and a new bloom in the flowerpot grows.

--Bernadete vdw, ‘25