Remembering Love
I waste my time; recalling the past;
for it holds nothing, for me;
it’s only a memory; that cannot last;
her love wasn’t meant to be.
Every lifetime is made of chapters;
all divided into seasons;
some, become life’s benefactors;
none understand the reasons.
I recall the day; she came into my life;
her eyes; an adorable mystery;
I had sweet dreams of her, as my wife;
knowing that such, wasn’t to be.
I’d dream of my angel; day and night;
dreams give us much liberty;
I’d imaged her kiss, to be my delight;
to her; I was a mystery.
I had, more than a few, loves in life;
very few had love for me;
I dreamed one love, would be a wife;
but, her love wasn’t to be.
I left love’s dream, in search of another;
I was given a passion for writing;
each woman, I loved, thought me a brother;
tho her arms were most inviting.
My soul left the garden, above;
for a world, so misbegotten;
in death, I’ll return to God’s love;
soon to become forgotten;
Monty 6.8.26. # 3,357