Tongues of Thorns

You think that I

Who broke your dream;

All that you lent

Was wasted there,

And I who spoke

In rhyme and scheme

Have lost the tongues

I tempted there.

 

You tear my shroud

Of wings and sighs

To leave me cold,

Unloved and lost,

While I live out

My storms and cries

In search of warmth

Beneath your dust.

 

But you stare long

At some surprise

That caught your glimpse

Beyond my door;

And the night’s long,

And love bleeds,

While tongues of thorns

Rake my shore.

 

David Lewis Paget

 

Reviews

[Marie]

This is a bit obscure. I have to say, frankly, that your ballads are better.