My Secret Love (28 May 1995)
I have a secret love
Who walks amongst these fields
Across the yellow woods she lives
Nearby the seven hills
Hair black as the raven
Eyes tempestuous seas!
Ruby lips, flashing nails
Limbs draped in burgundy
She walks the path, now overgrown
And gives no thought to me
Raindrops smooth the marbled stone
That holds my memory
When she was a child, I was a child
Along that very lane
We’d sing and dance, and holding hands
Enchanted we would play
When I was a child, she was a child
Then the cold, damp, wintry rain
Brought to me the cough of doom
And took my love away
I’ve watched her grow each passing year
More comely with each turn
Feelings—all that’s left of me—
To watch, to pine, to yearn
Another’s hand, another’s kiss
Another’s soft embrace . . .
I’ve watched her joys turn slow to tears
And the light fade from her face
This Spring I see a youthful form
As when my spirit sped,
An elder woman strains apace
Her daughter being led
Along the lane of the yellow woods
Nearby the seven hills
My feelings haunt the eternity
Each generation fills
2 Comments
Lysseus
16 December 2008 at 04:00My Secret Love (28 May 1995)
I have a secret love
Who walks amongst these fields
Across the yellow woods she lives
Nearby the seven hills
Hair black as the raven
Eyes tempestuous seas!
Ruby lips, flashing nails
Limbs draped in burgundy
She walks the path, now overgrown
And gives no thought to me
Raindrops smooth the marbled stone
That holds my memory
When she was a child, I was a child
Along that very lane
We’d sing and dance, and holding hands
Enchanted we would play
When I was a child, she was a child
Then the cold, damp, wintry rain
Brought to me the cough of doom
And took my love away
I’ve watched her grow each passing year
More comely with each turn
Feelings—all that’s left of me—
To watch, to pine, to yearn
Another’s hand, another’s kiss
Another’s soft embrace . . .
I’ve watched her joys turn slow to tears
And the light fade from her face
This Spring I see a youthful form
As when my spirit sped,
An elder woman strains apace
Her daughter being led
Along the lane of the yellow woods
Nearby the seven hills
My feelings haunt the eternity
Each generation fills
Angie
18 December 2008 at 00:07What lovely poetry, the words go well with the gotic victorian graveyard.