In glorious July, birds call across,
meadows where edelweiss perfumes the air,
where the Dore, a silver thread, meets Dogne's fall.
A couple stands, fingers intertwined,
they talk about books as they usually do,
but duty's heavy script binds, in their gaze,
pain lingers, as loving dreams fade.
She smiles, like fragile porcelain, he averts
his eyes, can he bear to live life unknown,
beneath the mountains a breeze takes hold,
longing ignites, yet hope turns cold.
Let’s sketch this tale in still air,
a marriage undone, dreams laid bare,
to trace the fault lines, where affection dwindled,
recalling the silence there at arrival.
In France’s embrace, two souls together,
yet edging away,
a love story paused,
as if caught in a snare,
wishing for hearts and displays of care.
A short honeymoon
decided their lot
dividing their minds,
in life they were caught.