Poetry

O love, my love, where in this lonesome hour
Can my heart with sweet abandon find you there?
If chance upon the wind you do float as lotus flower
Would on my earthen bed you gladly fare?

I am your silent lover though cloaked in gentile guise
With lips, my own affection would I treat you
And in the twilight's gloaming your embrace there would I prize
If fate would look away while there I greet you.

O suitors, I commend your will to win her proffered hand
While exile finds me close enough to see
Yet mark this, would be lovers, her hand there you may find
But her gentle heart was offered first to me.

                                                     ~Christopher Thor Britt