Sonnet 37

You left me there no word that you had gone
And I returned to find the hearth gone cold,
With not but silent thoughts to ponder on
And worried fears the heart prefers untold.
With fettered haste I searched each shadowed room
‘Til sweetest hope was drowned in sad despair;
‘Til muted echoes of a grieving moon
Coursed through my veins and wore my spirit bare;
And loneliness as ever lonely was
Enshrouded heart and soul in darkest night,
Enveloped memory in bleak repose
And blurred its color with a stinging sight.
Oh tortured passion that may fools enchain;
To bind in hope, then leave in lasting pain.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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