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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
4 years ago 
