As sweet sleep evades my weary body,
My mind drifts to a place shielded by day,
A savage madness, vicious malady,
There are no means to keep these thoughts at bay.
Words unsaid, a bitter pill to swallow,
Mine own artless actions make me a fool,
But mine conscience has no cause to wallow:
Better give freely than nothing at all.
And yet these feelings are stronger than due,
To thou, whose fair presence was so fleeting,
Old wounds opened from disappointment new,
A lesson ill learned means much repeating;
That which first appears both unfeigned and true,
Is as inconstant as the sky is blue.
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