A new piece of which this is the first draft. It has already come quite a long way from where it started as the kernel of an idea. I'm trying not to overcomplicate it as I want it to convey a fairly simple message.
The scuplture of the lovers locked
In tender embrace endures, after a fashion.
Their features now are indistinct and forms
Blended as mere rumour of their passion.
Their gaze held for the ages was to
Put doubters of true love in their place,
But time has stolen a march on them
For they do not recall each other's face.
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