What's this I see?
A mark of love,
Of romance chivalry?
But a mark grown to a tree,
Ever so naturally, I see,
Through many hot spring and winters untold,
Bearing the mark of love, and the bold,
Thousands of years, faces have passed,
Yet the roots and limbs of bark hold fast,
I could have passed by,
But a reason I stop,
A reason uncanny,
Mystic love begot,
Of a love that was mine,
Much younger than vine,
Yet older a dream,
A dream in short time,
Whom and how long,
Has this tree came to love?
To bear such a heart,
From the angels above?
To lay and to sleep,
How I wish it were so!
Yet forward I must,
And continue I go,
Continue a walk, of love and regret!
Where burdens and chains of lead beget!
My stay is not long, ever so short,
I haste to fathom, Heaven a court,
I know thou will not,
A thousand or more,
Yet the mark of the tree,
Will love, evermore,
© Copyright 2016 Freeland. All rights reserved.
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