Lord Cynic: "This is writer's block therapy, for the most part. Also a very lazily written poem for my standards. I apologise if it's too confusing to understand, but it's supposed to be Colloyd (or, as I like to call it, Dorkshipping) fluff. Well, enjoy it if you can."
Lord Cynic: "I don't own Tales of Symphonia. If I did, Rodyle wouldn't exist. Damnit, I hate him so much…"
Campsite Memories
Late one night while they were camping,
Lloyd and Colette gathered by the fire.
Their mouths were wide like the seas of Sylvarant,
Their eyes gleamed with childlike desire.
They
remembered the first time they met,
Under awkward circumstance.
Their collision in the market,
Seemed more than mere chance.
She had apologised and bowed,
Asking for his forgiveness.
He'd chuckled it off, called her a dork,
And asked why she was so serious.
She'd told him who she was,
The Chosen and saviour of the world.
He'd thought that was insane,
Dumping all that on an innocent girl.
She had asked him for his name,
He'd replied, "Give me yours and I shall give you mine."
And since that fateful day,
Lloyd and Colette were two-of-a-kind.
When they were alone together,
They had eyes for only each other.
He looked out and cared for her,
Like a loving older brother.
As the time passed by,
Their bond grew stronger than ever,
And no matter what would come their way,
They'd always be together forever.
Soon that deep devotion,
Transformed their friendship into love.
She held his heart through dainty fingers,
He held hers through sturdy gloves.
It was clear to their friend Genis,
Who thought they'd never get it.
He'd just hoped through everything they'd been through,
They wouldn't live to regret it.
But Lloyd and Colette were assured,
That their bond would never break.
And their love would only strengthen,
From each passing morning that they wake.
The fire crackled in the night,
Casting their shadows like disjointed souls.
And when they closed in for a goodnight kiss,
The gap closed, and the souls became whole.
The End