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False Endymion
April 20, 2010
O’er here divine skin, my hand doth rest,
Patiently waiting for my lover’s quiet breath,
And when I do hear that sweet, blessed tone,
Love will resound and all truth be shown.
Ne’er would I dare to soothe thine ears
Or eyes with such angelic grace -
To cover thee with golden lace,
Or a gentle kiss on thy tender face.
O! how I lay in shroud of such fear of my
Pleasures falling to such a short ending.
A cold blade pierces thine skin, to accompany my sigh,
Last my death by my lover’s side - her heart now mending.
© Anna K., Portland, OR
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Favorite Quote:
"I hate the world: it batters too much the wings of my self-will, and would I could take a sweet poison from your lips to send me out of it..." John Keats