Unseen Battles

It is the middle of the year,
The unseen battles
Are unbearable to bear.
There are invisible sounds,
Invisible yes,
Audible, oh yes.
Fleeting moments breathing by,
Minute after useless minute.
They do not wear the hue,
Of a nostalgic garden,
No more,
Of a snow clad mountain.

The watch awaits winding,
The pen needs refilling.

Yet there were times,
When the gin was ready,
Right after breakfast.
And we had it swiftly
Like undoing ribbons,
Off presents lying by.

The lights were diffused,
Akin to discipline.
And nothing mattered more
Than life embracing,
Waiting upon us
At the other end
Of our bed,
Even as the sun played through the curtains,
It knew, it was
Forbidden.

We owned life,
Once.