Ekho

It’s just a lie that Time must tell,

a truth that can’t come true.

Ekho haunts the wishing well,

and whispers: me, then you.

The sunset doesn’t really blush

when light deserts the day,

leaves no peace in evening’s hush,

with thunder on the way.

The flash that hit a lonely tree

sealed the wound with scars;

blinded love that cannot see

Adonis stride across the stars.