Sep 7, 2016, 4:03:46 PM Creative

Oh, dearest love, I cannot come

To see you off today.

And vested in sweet minstrel tone,

The life I live is shy.


Shy away from voyager’s side,

From whispers that tell me

To hark aloud when moment comes,

Before your destiny


Is riven from controlling force –

Is held by stranger’s hand –

The territory I can foretell

Is linked unto the land


Of hope and thought and charity –

The minstrel I once knew,

Before she strolled both near and far

With divinity that grew


Between the minstrel and her star

In a life, unknowingly

Naive. Ignorance being bliss –

A life so tellingly


Eventful, prestigious with her there –

Enclosed by ups and downs.

Envelop, oh sweet minstrel –

In your noble surrounds.


Yet who’s to say what’s noble?

Who’s to say which balladeer can sing?

May someone who has loved before

Ne’er to love again?


May the quiet whisper

Of the minstrel in the night

Wake up the next morning

To her lovers pure sight.


The pristine hue of azure seas

Clear – eternally blue sky.

Though vested in sweet minstrel tone –

Too reticent, too shy!

Published by Owen Tilley


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