A Love of Mine
Will we feel our love when we are dead?
The moon and rocks off to the sky
What are these if not had been lead?
Will our joy and tears perspire forever?
But soon the clock nods to a sigh
Are our children our only endeavor?
The ale is drunk, our fears trunked
As we stalk to noon, But why?
Alas debunk, our fears confront
Soft comes a lullaby
Copyright © Christopher Brantley