January 29, 2017


January 29, 2017

Such Beauty that mine eyes perceive,
Gives cause for my poor heart to grieve,
Because this paragon I see,
Shall never stand here next to me.
Benighted is my wretched life,
Her grace it lacks, whilst gloom is rife,
To take her gentle hands in mine,
Our fingers, like our souls, entwined,
Is but a dream my heart holds dear,
For she is far away, not near,
And knows not she’s my heart’s desire,
The oxygen for passion’s fire,
And yet my heart holds on to hope,
And slips not down the slippery slope,
Of unrequited Love’s despair,
For whilst her soul is strong and fair,
And in her breast her heart doth beat,
All thoughts of her remaineth sweet,
And give my soul cause to rejoice,
My heart lives happy with it’s choice.

© 2017 Martin Graham King

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