Thinking now of you again in happy pride,
That you and I in love were once conjoined
And of that union now, I shan’t deride
Or yet that heart, another has purloined.
What ever was now seems not meant to be,
More like a tarnished trinket lost of shine,
One I should never hence be want to see
Adorn in pleasure, any cloak of mine.
Yet of that bauble that was once our love,
From time to time I shall reflect there on
That gilt can so be lost on simple rub
And that deemed gold, debased while barely worn.
So when considering thus, I say forsooth!
The thinnest gloss can hide the darkest truth.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.