Taciturnity

A wee bit of cloud
A skimpy shower
A long night and a short story.
He was the physique, she the shadow
He was the immense sky, she its décor
The winds that stroked her hair was he
The sun that made her bloom was his love
The day he went silent
The swarthy sky turned the cheerful earth ebony
All the lights dimmed . . .
The gentle wind metamorphosed into a tempest
Waves that had brushed past their soft feet
Rose sky high in rage
Fire that had lit their lonely life was ablaze now
Devastation had encircled the entire cosmos
The wick that promised to burn lifelong had been snuffed
Had he loved only to go silent?
Were the candles lit only to be stopped from flickering?
Why was the sky decorated with twinkling gems
If they were not to sparkle?
Why did the winds stroke her hair
If it was not to be garlanded?
Just when it dawned on him
That stillness is an unknowing ribald sin
Lightning scintiillated and silence broke
Into the ringing of a thousand wedding bells?
The silhouette merged with the body,
The moon and the starts shone bright
The winds now blew her scented hair
Revealing a ravishing beauty
The sea had now calmed
Akin to the Mediterranean
The flames of love were now seen from afar.