Though eyes may never scan these worthless lines
And tongues may never speak the words they hold,
Though heaven may not bless, this hope might find
Some paltry reverence as a story old.
Surviving as a parchment from this age
Perhaps requiring translation to explain,
Desiring to some distant soul engage,
And touch what human vestiges remain.
Once, lost in time, a man a beauty loved
And he did love her with a force supreme,
But yet his troth to her could not be proved
And she a mighty truth forthwith demeaned.
What matters to a love that lasts all time,
If it be etched in unrequited rhyme?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.