I did not know her, though I knew her well.
I knew her features, touch and sable hair.
I knew her silken voice which oft would tell
Of glad tomorrow and its’ grander share.
I knew her hopes and dreams and silent fears,
I held her in the quiet still of night,
And on occasion wiped off silver tears
That stained a rosy cheek with salty blight.
Yet though I knew her thus, I knew her not;
I could not see kind heart both false and true,
I could not see sweet Venus wearing black,
Or hidden insect soiling bud and bloom.
In blissful ignorance I played my part,
For fools in love see only with the heart.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.