Our history is a cold case
Dissected on a table
Dusty memories now covered
No-one has looked within
For years
Our passion is on cold ice
Freezing like its birth-right
Trapped within a photo
A memory mostly forgotten
In tears
Our mystery is a cold case
Rendered lost and irrelevant, yet
detectives may still ponder,
looking for imperfections
in the crime
Our hopes are now on cold ice
They breathed too brief and small
Left-overs from a dinner
where no guests came to call
in time
(c) Helen Valentina 2013, All Rights Reserved
helenvalentina 
Very good,
Thanks so much! 🙂 🙂
Sigh…my hopes are on cold ice. “They breathed too brief and small”
Beautiful, as always, Sis.
Thanks Skye!! 🙂 🙂
“Left-overs from a dinner where no guests came to call in time…” I told you not to used the tinned salmon.
Yes, that was probably it or not getting the right wine for the right courses…..sigh…LOL! 🙂
Very intriguing and moving. I enjoyed this poem very much.
Thanks so much!! 🙂 🙂