I, true love
Weary, I slowly retire,
Far away from your soft-dying fire,
Far away from that last fading ember,
That soon we’ll only ever remember.
But long ago, way back in December,
Perhaps before, perhaps in November,
From out of nothing, there emerged a spark,
Standing out, like a light, in the dark;
And it rose like a rose, like a star,
And it climbed and it wandered, so far,
That it came to rest, far away, out of reach,
Impossible, inaccessible, to teach:
“When you, weary mortals, no more yearn,
I, true love, still burn."
Submitted: January 24, 2013
© Copyright 2023 henryd1. All rights reserved.
Comments
This poem is actually a sonnet, but the gaps between the verses have disappeared and so you can't really tell. It kind of spoils it.
Sat, January 26th, 2013 7:43pmA great poem. :) Submerged in the pains and piercing of the long distance love aching every now and then.. I can see you have described the same very feeling which is actually felt when you are in a long distance thing.. Well done :D
Sun, March 9th, 2014 12:03pmFacebook Comments
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Matthew D. Hay (Tangible Word)
I loved this, well done :D
Thu, January 24th, 2013 8:14pm