Loverboy

With luck, what's not will come to be,
And soon, and she and I, alone, will
Walk this path, beneath the moon,
As lovers. Others needn't know.
We'll take the hill to seize the dawn
That does no more than light the way
To work for those whose hearts have
Hardened. Ours, as yet, or once again,
Are tender. They will palpitate to
Those first rays which brush our faces.
Afterward? I cannot say, as what I see
Is what has yet to be, but she has said
She'd come, and all will pass as I have
Hoped, with luck.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 17 times
Written on 2011-03-19 at 12:02

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