Wednesday, February 11, 2009


I am yours, and you are mine

Into each other’s limbs we twine

As saplings in loves coppice might

Be merged as one in softened light.

One water drinking from the ground;

Unified in sight and unison in sound;

And sleep as peaceful as the setting sun

Contented when each day is done.

But what is this I feel that grows t’ween trunk and bough?

The sweet rose thorn stem; and as it starts to climb it does chafe,

And weaving through us now it’s barbs draw blood in our embrace!

It promising most beauteous blooms,

But never telling how quick they fade.

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