What right have I to feel I was betrayed
When fate and time and chance must have their due?
For yet, in truth, no promise was their made
That joined us in a bond as one, not two;
And have I now the right to grieve my loss?
To bathe myself in self-reproaching woe?
When casualty hath tarnished future gloss,
And not deceitful heart, which still is gold.
Yet your fair face did rob me of sound sight
And made glad hope transcend reality,
And misinterpretation was my plight,
Believing of you what I chose to see.
Yet for such error why should I then be sad,
And weep for loss of that I never had?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.