The Sorrow of Love
Poem no. 37, 31st July 2026
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In the secrecy of her mind
Lies the soul of an Enchanter
He holds onto the white key
The pathway to her heart
To a youth foregone,
Her rites of passage,
Her disillusionment
All forever locked away…
O Enchanter,
Hand me the white key!
she cries out
Should my heart burn out all the roses
Let my quest for infinity’s spell
Still be reveled upon
For a love born of reverence
Is a love that heals through its sorrow.
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