Author Information
Lover's Mourn
Folder:
Interlude Unto mistakes doth my love rove
but happily doth she roam
ahh... but could she only realize
one mistake could be avoided
or countless cured by but one action
and tho I hope every night and day
patience be not virtue but torture
for love's sweet grasp be denied
and the soul's mate forsaken.
I like your poem. It has an old style feel to it. It touches the ancient ways with its wording. Good poem well written, keep up the good work.