Ruins

A woodcut of the ruins of Kildare Cathedral, c. 1835.  Anonymous - The Penny Magazine of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. Vol. 4. 11 July 1835. London.  Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons. Public domain.

Ruins

“Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.” ~Gustave Flaubert

Amidst these ruins, I can see

a ghost who quite impossibly

still hints that I will somehow find

a love whom I’d once left behind.

I won’t believe this ghost.  But then,

I’m more concerned with now; not when.

Still…maybe it’s my state of mind:

A love that I’d once left behind?

My thoughts might haunt me, as they may,

but in these ruins, thoughts don’t weigh

much more than leaves with wind entwined

for love.  I've left regret behind.

Amidst these ruins, I can see
a love; but love was left behind.

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Notes: The form is Kyrielle Sonnet.  The poem was inspired by both the above artwork and the above quote.  It was posted on Poetic Asides today, since their Wednesday prompt theme is, "State of the ..."  

I would also like to add that the poem is merely a creation; that is, the words came to mind to form the poem, and they do not have any real life bearing on me or my past, although I suppose in an alternative universe, it could have happened that way.