The Lover’s Play

So now, my friend, why are you frowning?
All this could mean a moment crowning
What we might have hoped today:
There’s no reason for pretending;
There’s much here that’s ripe for mending,
Well within the lovers’ play.

What is right? There is no knowing;
All I have’s but scant for showing;
Rare’s the truth that’s not half lies:
Without promises unduly
Rash, for now, I’ll love you truly;
We don’t have to compromise.

Author: Owen Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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