Her Heart a Flower, Wondrous Its Plumes
Her Heart A Flower, Wondrous Its Plumes
Her heart a flower, wondrous its plumes
my lust an ancient fire.
Her sweet voice, relief from many dooms,
for such love, I did conspire.
Through long summer and sky's heated reign
my ardor burned all the more.
So much so, my honor I did stain
walking through that darkest door.
Treasure came, O' at what evil cost
shame of desires, heart so fears.
I found bitter price of all I lost
her early death, streams my tears.
Her heart a flower, wondrous its plumes
my lust an ancient fire.
Her sweet voice, relief from many dooms,
for such love, I did conspire.
R.J. Lindley,
July 19th, 1979
Syllables Per Line: 9 7 9 7 0 9 7 9 7 0 9 7 9 7 0 9 7 9 7
Total # Syllables: 128
Total # Words: 103
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017
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