Across A Thousand Summers

Across a thousand summers, they
Ran love through all its paces;
Though lacking funds, experience,
And all the social graces,

But she was beautiful and free,
And he was strong, undaunted —
And though employers had them on
The list of their least wanted,

They lived from hand to mouth to hand.
So perfect in its purity,
He missed the shadow in her eyes
Of seeking shelter’s surety.

Across a thousand winters now,
He crepey, old, and languorous,
Remembers what he gave for love,
And how it all was meaningless —

These pictures in his fevered mind,
Unfaded and undusted,
And how he just was not enough
For that one girl

He trusted

Author: Beleaguered Servant

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

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