Sylvia, sweet Sylvia, where are you now?
My heavy heart still pines to have you near;
The grieving moon lays low, pallid with rue,
And stars do twinkle cold, bereft of cheer.
I let you go without a fond farewell,
Still dreaming we would soon embrace again;
But time eclipsed you in its umbrageous veil—
Now fretted memories of lost love remain.
Oh, that this mottled moon would show the way,
And light that darkened trail back to your heart;
From your soft warm embrace I’d never stray,
And we, love-blessed once more, would never part.
Would but these star-strewn heavens hear my plea,
And guide me to that face I long to see.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.