The Vow

The vow could cause to burn a memory

inside the head like the elongated moon

besides a love lorn gloom stretching on

for niggardly written song of passion and

beauty yields the face upon which

all praises fall for the dear love in repose

while idling time twopence a day I form

an opinion of queen or a maid, a self confession

The gate was ajar as it was when I came

nobody disturbed the peace of a solemn love

a request to be foregone like a quiet mice

I could run around and forget the winter

spent in waylay of love upon its lull face

agony rising with longing for the sake of

mighty work disturbed and wrecked like

a thunderstorm on one of a mighty night

when the hero loosing grace falls for

the succulent ape and I must rejoice the

coming of infinite romance unending in

form of a sequence.



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