Poem 4

0 Comment| 9:26 pm

A secret buried in the past,

Blood upon the glass,

Fortune does favour the brave,

For this mournful lass.

She admired his great resolve,

About their bonding,

In a time to be aware,

Such heartfelt longing.

Little did they know for sure,

The weight of their sins,

What lovers do in the shade,

Is how it begins.

A different child of the light,

Born unto this world,

Hidden from hateful masters,

Never to be told.

Yet treasure is often found,

No different is he,

There’s always one to capture,

Bitter memory.

Herein lies the horrid fate,

Of a true father,

Shot down in their sacred place,

She loved no other.

Alone now in this lifetime,

Lost amongst the rough,

A most painful lesson learned,

Love is not enough.

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