A Poet's Song
I remember when we used to meet,
Under the arbor on a cushioned seat;
It was always such a special time,
When I held your hands in mine.
Your eyes were that soft blue gray,
That lit my skies throughout the day;
But they changed into amethyst,
When I sought your mouth and we kissed.
Your tangled hair that ran riot,
Without a ribbon there to tie it;
Tumbles down like streams of gold,
Like a rhyme so softly told.
I remember well your sweet perfume,
That reminded me of the rose's bloom;
When your little feet to me came,
Running soft in spring time’s rain.
The color of the dress you wore,
Crimson red I could not ignore;
Around your neck the snowy lace,
That framed so well your lovely face.
Could we bring back the dream again,
Does the memory hold too much pain?
Has passion past now gone away,
Has love thought it cannot stay?
Just know dear how my heart will break,
The grieving is for both our sake;
But it will find a song I know,
For poet's hearts are broken so.
Copyright © Elizabeth Wesley | Year Posted 2011
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