At Once

At Once by Michael R. Burch Though she was fair, though she sent me the epistle of her love at once and inscribed therein love’s antique prayer, I did not love her at once. Though she would dare pain’s pale, clinging shadows, to approach me at once, the dark, haggard keeper of the lair, I did not love her at once. Though she would share the all of her being, to heal me at once, yet more than her touch I was unable bear. I did not love her at once. And yet she would care, and pour out her essence ... and yet—there was more! I awoke from long darkness, and yet—she was there. I loved her the longer; I loved her the more because I did not love her at once. Published by The Lyric, Romantics Quarterly and Grassroots Poetry