A Mortal Vow
A MORTAL VOW
My one mind mends a mortal vow
And holds her cold hand ‘til the end
I knew I need my mother’s cow
To please the people whom I’ve lent.
These cord and veil create the life
That most of us eager to love
Not from the other but own wife
The strange we feel is a white dove.
Yeah, mine heart will not wall you out
If ever storms might have to dance.
Speak because I believe no doubt.
For sure I’d only fallen once
High altar should we remember
Where we held here the first God’s will.
Though this abbey seems December
Our gestures of blissfulness dwell.
Whenever a gale of wind spoke
To the left sway after the right
And we need not a puff of smoke
While waiting times to speak of bright.
Copyright © Ronelo Collamar | Year Posted 2017
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