Innocent love, far sweeter than a child’s,
Unconditional, free of vanity,
Her heart was pure, her body lithe and mild—
Blue eyes so clear, her soul lay bare to see.
She loved me true, of this I always knew
And what she gave, she asked naught in return;
I took her love as any man might do—
Embraced the form, while yet the heart I spurned.
Time is both balm and bane, it often seems;
Somewhere along the path I lost my way,
And soon I held her solely in my dreams,
‘Midst echos of the tender things she’d say.
In private moments when I breathe her name…
I wonder if she smiles—or does the same.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.