Of Love Perverse
For you and only you, my love, I’ll wait.
I’ll wait through evening’s dusk to early dawn.
On corners or at stations; by my gate
I’ve waited - and at night with curtains drawn.
The hands of time keep moving, stroke by stroke.
My calendar I’ve marked and then remarked.
What muse of tempering may I invoke
to cool these everlasting flames you’ve sparked?
Please come to me, unholy knight of love!
I cling to threadbare promises you made.
My tarrying I've grown so weary of
while off again you go on some crusade.
Fine gallant you are not, but - oh, perverse!
A heart grown fonder lingering is my curse.
(What I should have written to an old crush of mine
whose modern day crusades consumed his life!)
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
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