My Beloved
If the moon was wrapped in her robes
And the stars gave way to the twinkle in her eyes,
What splendor we would behold in the night sky
Above the loathsome owl!
Beyond that sky I now send warm prayers
That the lord blesses me with a thousand lovers
And makes her all of them;
And that the young wrinkled love that now forms
between us
Should grow to brim with youth when we brim
with age
That sweet day to come!
Copyright © Agona Apell | Year Posted 2015
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