It was written in small print, the expiry!

While there was pain

tied, dragging on the hands

of the clock's tick tock,

the clouds of time washed

away tears pouring

on a love now divided,

undressed to the core, bare;

never to be put back

in humpty dumpty fashion,

just tones of moments

scattered in golds and browns

littering one's thoughts

by a mind in fall.

For the dish ran away

with the spoon,

leaving a knife in the back

a fork in the eye,

he was blindsided.

Life's hand

that reaches out

never shakes

on a living agreement,

but offers a gamble

on  a chance

with no returns.