I penned a love poem.
Then signed it and sealed it.
I stowed it away with my heart
till I’d healed it.
I poured on the pages
the pain and the pining.
Then laid them aside in a drawer
for a lining.
I wove you, with weeping,
a sonnet, sincerely,
believing that sorrow, which scarred
me severely
would fade like an ink spot
in drawer’s sunless shadows,
that passion would wither
like grass in the meadows.
I proofread that poem
to purge it of errors.
I tried to erase all the
tortures and terrors
I’d dreamed, in departure\'s
dread dawn of damnation,
when losing you cut
like a limb amputation.
I penned a love poem
for eyes of yours only.
In drawer, like a dungeon,
I let it lie lonely.
I locked it and left it
where dust would assemble
till hand that did write it
would no longer tremble.