The Curse

On Sat'urs Day eve I did live a life that no one dared believe.
I loved a maid as if my wife, but she could not conceive.

This love was love, a love so true, my heart was but her toy.
But no room we had shone pink nor blue, more's the pity, no girl nor boy.

We bled, we cried! Real tears, real blood!
Yea of course we had our mirth.

So much the worse we grew apart...
Wellaway o fabled birth.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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