love

Oh dearest most loved lover,
When has death's blanket on you cover?
Oh most gentle, loving and kind,
What tragedy have you left behind?
Now seasons are the longing numbers of your care,
That strides the rest of no compare.
For your love had one in a million been,
So had its ways the million in one seen.
And I too tough have my heart obey,
That torn down the sun of everyday,
And my wistful heart does much sorrow keep,
Which cries a billion tears deep.
Herein reach of sadness's top,
That journeys a travel of no sweetly stop,
And of that, speaks my heart "No more!"
For it has left a wound of no restore.

~me


The past is a good lesson keep
Too good a lesson to forsake
But in your coming words without it say.

--

Your love is greater than the stars above,
I shall in life move with your love.