26 April 2012
My attempt at old fashioned style poem!
This shall never reach thine ears Knowing this, I write through tears, I hold this pen within mine hand Feathered tip spun strand by strand Each aglow with unsung thoughts That thee, my sweet, alone hast brought
I wonder, my love, what should I pen? My tale of triumph o’er other women? For it must be the work of angels unknown That you could love me, and me alone Yet it feels not proper to write of my victory When there is ink left to describe your glory
The rising moon, the setting sun Against thine beauty count as none Winds peak and fall at your command And speak thy name throughout the land When thou did speak thou did enthral Now from thy lips, sweet rubies fall
It seemed the world spun on thine heart Full of love so grand it could break me apart Thou filled my head with notions undreamt Future wishes and desires left unspent,
For here thee sleeps ‘neath starry skies The call to arms, your cause to die No, this shall never reach thine ears At rest as you are, my love, my dear.
The Widow • Opuss № I