Below is the poem entitled Irony, My Dearest Love which was written by poet
Attal. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.
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Was strolling down on Lover's Lane
With you lingering next to me.
Aphasiacs told me your name,
My love forever: Irony.
Your eyes of polished solar hue,
Comparable to no degree...
And I would venerate them too
My love, if I could only see.
You love the seasons with acclaim,
Adore the sight of all the trees.
But then of course, it starts to rain
An acid that erodes the leaves.
But I confirm my love will last;
You may possess me endlessly.
My passion, never will it pass
Away, or go missing from me.
Despite my greatest efforts though,
There is one thing I cannot change.
It is your name, my deer, my doe.
The irony of love, so strange.
My love for you has now been slain.
As I was strolling down I slowed,
The sign that once said "Lover’s Lane",
Actually reads "Memory Road".