Yes now I know that you have been untrue
And silver tears fall fast upon this bed
As you atone for sin in heartfelt rue,
While sordid shadows swirl inside my head;
Where do we go, where do we go from here,
What angel or what whore do I now hold?
From this point on deceit a constant fear
And every truth mere stories that I’m told.
I say my piece to calm two wounded hearts;
Grim rancor shall not be my standard now,
This strain forced sadness does not here comport
With all the tallies I have come to know;
I wipe your face and kiss you then goodnight—
In aching silence plan tomorrow’s flight.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.