MY LOVERS MYTH

At the eleventh heaven
I stood to see
My passion in Diaspora
Entangling and mingling

The miles she went
The steps she count
The dawn her dusk
For an ounce of wit

We swore to fate
To die in our arms
In passion and truth
If spared by grace

Her tears I bathe
On the ides of March
Watching her lowered
For the earth to roof

Of cross it was
The days I wished
The seed she promised
Her breathe I gave up.




Poetry by Owen
Read 539 times
Written on 2007-01-05 at 18:27

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