Yet Came Her Return

19 Dec

I could do very little
but to question why
that in her most vain
and solitary moment,
she had turned away;
yet soft in her mood,
her dress would have
come undone for me,
and abandon her eyes
to her previous gaze;
had I, but in whispers,
availed myself to her,
but ‘ere, spoke I none,
only as afterthought;
how then did she e’er,
brave, attend the night,
leaving disquieted eyes
unguarded but to mine;
how easily she cried,
tho’ tearless, she wept,
as tho’ was she e’er
in sorrow without me;
so fragile her mood,
and in flesh, as well,
that a gossamer wind
might wither as much;
yet, in her delicacy,
her most tender way,
she would yet claim
her heart, gilded o’er;
‘ere my heart, undone,
lay waiting at her feet,
and she then breathed
with but wanton smile;
‘ere, her eyes alighted,
as a return of some joy,
as she held out her hand
to meet mine once more.

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Posted by on December 19, 2016 in My Poetry



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