Poem: Irenne {Atmynice}

 

She sat besides me, wiping her tears.

In an angelic voice she voiced her fears,

She held my hand and rest it on her cheeks,

 Her tongue fumbles when she tried to speak.

She kept on looking at that sword on wall,

i went on thinking, why its prominence too small?

When I looked at my hands, and my wife is crying?

I look like no warrior, who's ready for dying. 

Her deep blue eyes, set me free from my life.

I can't think of anything but  Irenne as my wife.

And to be honest I was at least somewhere true.

This Macedonian warrior, ain't someone I knew.

And except for her love, Irenne is a stranger.

The whole Persian vista, triggers my danger.

The mysterious mirror in room  is only thing I knew.

And when I looked at it, it finally split in two.

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