They reached the city gates, hand in hand,
The guards looking at them melancholically,
He choked on his voice, but bravely enough,
Asked them to open the gates for them.
The guard’s eyes met with those of the girl,
All lachrymal, trying to rub off her tears,
Her eyes looked into his and a moment later,
Her vision buried into the sands below.
Then a screech of the gates, and a toll of the bell,
Made it known to one and all,
That the two would remain unwelcome as long,
As they drew breath from this world.
They limped out slowly, eyes forever on each other,
Neither knew what stood against them,
For the sands of time were running loose off their hands,
Nothing perennial in their lives anymore.
Save he, the girl had nowhere to go,
Or to see, or talk, or wail loudly,
But he seemed disheartened, became laconic,
Owned brevity in speech, in thoughts, and smiles.
Once she thought she was in love,
But that sentiment was only ephemeral,
And withered like leaves that fall off in autumn,
Never getting to see another spring.
Their hands had the mark of the city they came from,
And no one else would take them in,
So they walked by day and they walked by night,
Until they came by a petite inn.
As he drank his ale, she thought about him,
How their lives had changed for just one decision,
She thought of the evening when her hands was bloodied,
The blood never washing out, the oceans turning red.
She remembered how she had pleaded at first,
Explaining to her father that it wasn’t her fault,
Telling him how much she had fallen in love,
How she tried not to do so, but all in vain.
She remembered how she had been tied,
Beaten up till her skin almost came off,
She touched her bruises and almost instantly,
A tear silently fell into her wine.
Read the next part in Stranded – 2.