Love Lost

A poem about the tenacity of love.

Make haste thou my own

And reap you with scythe

What you have sown.

 

Bitter herbal, thou drinkest,

A potion deep, a draft succulent.

How didst thou findest

This herb so rare?

Tis wondrous, its fair flower.

Wilt thou smell the brief bloom of discontent

As it resides in the deepest part of thy truculent heart?

 

Wert o’er and thy smile hid

Beneath laden shadows of eventide.

Wert but a dream,

Descending into brightest sun

From moon swept night.

 

I knowest not thy heart.

Goest where thy will.

And in thy solicitude

Recall how thou didst

Smile with me,

Long and languorously my sweet.

 

Labor not to reap thy vanity.

Rather, labor truly to reap my heart

Ever wondrous and new

As it recalls the

Tenacity of love’s language.

Author's Note

This came to me as though someone else was speaking it in my ear as I wrote.

Reviews

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

Audrey, I don't know who or what was whispering in your ear but I hope it comes back frequently. This is tremendous

[roy mccarthy]

such a lovely write,
that olde english style!

Beautiful, deep and stirring poem.

[quinfinn]

your muse has been paying you a call...very olde world and distinguished verse.
delightful to the reader of classical romance. loved it!

[Veronica Chandler]

This was a stunning write! I felt like I sat and listened to you, a Renaissance poet as I read through the stanzas outloud. Crazy, like being transported back in time to another place entirely. Loved this one!