Fate stands still by iron gate,
white-gloved hand awaiting tender touch.
A grasp so sweet, to shatter the moon,
so sudden and intense to shake the earth.
But the fleeting gesture was just that;
fleeting.
He stood alone with tail coat black,
so elegant in the setting sun.
Alone, alone he was in wait.
Bouquet brushed the hand that still outstretched,
none held its silky sheen.
Empty still.
Fate was stood up by Destiny.
The two hearts, it seemed, were never meant to entwine.
Only his long friend of Loneliness
greeted him then.
Flowers dropped to tired ground
outside of Destiny's door.
And Fate walked hand in hand,
newly in love with his Loneliness.
