Sonnet 331

You did not think I knew you were untrue,
Well crafted were the lines of your deceit
And yet in trusting mind suspicion grew
As every day odd stories I would greet.
You did not hold me when I drew you near,
Your eyes looked through me with a distant light,
Each whispered kindness I did there endear
Now greeted with the chill of winter’s night.
What does one do when love’s great fire burns out,
Hearth stones bleed warmth ‘neath ashes cold and grey;
There all sweet life consumed disposed in doubt
And embered ghosts of dreams on cinders lay.
Truth is the fuel the flames of love live on,
What feeds the coals of hope when tinder’s gone?

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s