Tears of Rhyme

The night is old, the candle spent, My mind anew to worries lent, The air is cold, the moon serene, My heart laid bare of things I’ve seen. Your memory is rising high And though I struggle to defy Your calls across the vale of time, My thoughts condense as tears of rhyme. And thus I carry on, unsure Of whether I could ask for more From you or me, with heavy breath Whose weight I’ll carry to my death. Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com