Love dies as bud

Love buds do sprout,

Now and then,

Here and there,

Everywhere,

All in abundance,

Across tight borders,

Among fretted mass,

But sooner or later,

Nay, sooner than later,

Tragically wither

At the scorching eyes

Of the vigilant spies,

Who are in every

Other woman and man

In and around.

A kind of genocide.

28.04.2002, pkd