Sonnet 26

Love, you make me want to curse the heavens

For endowing us with just mortal life,

Alas, just lasting a score of seven,

Among which just four may you be my wife.

Alas, how can our God let our love end?

An eternity would not be enough!

I'll never allow my heart's will to bend,

Until my hands are shackled by Death's cuffs.

But, our magnificent love shall still boast,

Our perfect love shall overcome Time's curse,

Even when we are the whispers of ghosts;

For, our love will be preserved in my verse.

  My love for you shall never fade away,

  Even when planet Earth runs out of days.

Author's Note

For the purposes of this poem a score refers to ten years, unlike the usual 20.