Do you take these bricks….?

You’re leaning slightly, skirts a-rustle,
Blowing dust at me.
Am I hungry for a story?
As hungry as can be.

Once promised in a sultry month,
you narrate with care,
your lines were freshly glowing white.
garlands perfumed the air.

You thought the bond was mutual,
pure bliss is what you saw,
’twas written and was deftly signed,
your love for evermore.

But evermore does not exist,
the glow recedes and wanes
with cracks and flakes and broken things.
A different smell pervades.

Care could soon restore my looks
You plead through shuttered eyes,
Unlock the beauty that’s within
And revel in the prize.

Linked to a great photo prompt from Carrie at The Sunday Muse Blogspot.

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