Sonnet 137

I plucked a poem for you that doleful day
Red and redolent of love’s sweet perfume,
My gift to you, with nothing left to say;
When read aloud, love wafted through the room.
I gilded it with dew drop silver tears
That ran down sallow cheeks bereft of love,
Those diamond emblems that all lover’s fear
As I beseeched the very gods above;
But gods were silent, you already gone;
Your crumpled letter stained upon my knee
And I with nought but why to ponder on,
And if my love torn heart would ever heal.
Perhaps in time to come you’ll change your mind,
My dearest, ever sweetest, valentine.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

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