That dearest memories hold our hearts on strings
Is but reflected in these tears that flow,
And silent heartache that sad thought may bring
Betrays itself in silver droplets so.
Thus do I now unleash in silent grief
The memoir of love’s long forgotten years,
And time for once would be a welcomed thief,
Could memory such now be his booty here.
Thus now I mourn remembrance of things past,
Of distant tender years now mocked by time;
And though love’s joys and sorrows seldom last,
Their echos linger ever on my mind.
These echos are but sad and lonely strains
Of strings upon my heart that now are chains.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.