Thunder Bay

But,
Even now,
I do sometimes wonder.

What if,
We had not,
Bent to the thunder?

I suppose we’ll never know,
For the world was torn asunder.

I was Helen of Troy,
Who he did not go to war for.
With the appreciation of time,
Neither one of us kept a scoreboard.

We burned bright,
Deliciously hot,
And far too fast.

Such explosive things,
You see,
Are just not meant to last.

But I will say,
And be done with the affair.

The memory makes me shiver,
In the heat of summer air.