Stem the tide which brings to me
A labyrinth of sorrow
Upon the passion of the sea
Its waves rise up and cry to me
But I cry, nay, tomorrow
Hold the sorrow in your womb
With lips so blue and cold
I cannot embrace its gloom
Or offer lilies on its tomb
Or eulogies untold
Yet if I do not taste your kiss
Or drink your bitter wine
You may consider me remiss
For greater far the sorrow this
That you were never mine
All Rights Reserved
Janet Martin
No comments:
Post a Comment