This is the death of romance
Of sweet uncensored love
passionate kisses and warm embraces
of gentle touching and nights of holding each other tight
sweet words and silent gazing into each other’s eyes
This is the death of imagination
Of scaly purple dragons
beautiful scenes and glistening things
in the depths of one’s mind
of abstracts, constructs, life-forms, and views none of the likes you have ever seen
gazing into a creation made by one or many
This is the death of writing
of sonnets written by diligent hands
epic stories of the ever triumphant hero
going against all odds
of limericks so rude and comical
Books written by creative minds
words flowing from hand to page
This is the death of music
of melodious notes rising from glorious instruments
glorious voices singing versus so fiercely
of the lyrics so stable and black on the page of white
a blazing glory of evocative rhythms and sounds
This is the death of nature
of beautiful willows swaying so gently in the breeze
the red rose so elegant in all its regal glory
of fields of daisies and orchards of apples
cherry blossoms so evocative with their unique pink shade
This is the death of life
of newborns so innocent and picturesque
the children parents so hold dear to them
of men and women, who share such love for each other
the animals, such glorious creatures they are
But most importantly, this is the death of beauty
of the romance we so tenderly give
imagination so astonishing and vast
of the writing we all love and cherish
music so harmonious and emotional
of nature with its many surprises and mysteries
Life, the one thing that we all hold dear
This is the death of all these things
The end of all that we have worked so hard to achieve
The death of all things beautiful
