I knew to love,
What was trusted deeply
To the nuptial part of our romance,
Before an altar with primrose and tulip,
And the sight of Christ upon our faces.
And, it was yours he shared the most attention,
As you wept, among the repeated sighs,
To the warm wind of this summer height.
A little droplet of morning dew nested beneath your eye,
The left one.
It created children,
And brought down a rain of orphans to your white feet,
Bared to the warm winds.
I cast love in a direction, I knew to be
The kiss to bring you ecstasy.
With a vivacious spirit,
You have grown to only weep,
At the sight of me,
And I have yet to know of what emotion, comes the tear’s origin.
Shall I kiss, again?
Upon the forehead, perhaps,
Or the lips, again?
Upon each cheek, perhaps,
So that I may know?
Tears were once what we knew to be tragedy,
Failure was a sting to our hearts, made-up by that ecstasy
And everything beauteous.