At patio ‘neath terrace effigy—|
Besiege by joy as thou get close to me,
Thou art my laureate mine empathy:
Thyself who came out Cambridge hall to see?
Theatrics-act, a curtain with thy name—
O! I regret and why I did forsake,
What happens to the love that once we claim?
We’re so young then; as we commits mistake.
In spite of ember-stain and older face—
Thou able to identify my voice,
Though time is dead but love has been retrac’d.
(A fate we both accept and that’s our choice)
A peasant’s will hath been detests by time,
He set aside the feeling of his prime.
© 2019 amberdusk
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