Misty Meadows,
Stars arrayed in moonlight,
If I have to be judged for my sins,
Then to hell with iniquity.
Break my soul if my hearts fails to be penetrated,
For I stand on a delicate bridge.
I call for help in my dilemma only
to be forced out of the hands of my
beloved for instances foreseen.
So unfortunate in love am I.
If majority so matters,
Then to hell with minority.
Cast not thine eyes on my pitiable sight but
have faith in that which I shall become,
Lessen from my heart the burden and
my tears, the acrimony behind it.
Look through my fiery eyes,
Feel through my piercing heart,
A beautiful sad bride without a groom.
A fine wine without taste,
A cheese butter without oil
A song without a muse
All these I became in an unmerited situation...
©heart of the ink✒
© Barbara Joan
Ifechigha Douglas
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