Love’s Last Letter


Preview against my better judgement

that document of old,

wherein love wrote letters anew

and fantasy grew cold.

 

Alight Diana, from snorting steed

no knight shall follow yet.

For silken tresses and lovelorn eyes

have won battle’s fret.

 

Like to the trees the quivering shadows,

or new moon’s new delight.

The black crow snaps and bats screech –

the haunted canyon’s night.

 

A weathered page in an ancient book.

Will you mock the wise old head?

Sages and mages foretold it would

be better off as dead.

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