literature

An Aged Love

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tatterdema1ion's avatar
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Literature Text

Why do others compare their love to fire
When mine like dwindling embers glows--
Only rarely tasting of their God, desire--
And in tenderest mercy only shows.

For them a fluttering lash would suffice
And sweet longing for kisses and tributes of flesh,
Yet for us a wry smile, forgiving our vice,
And a burden twice shouldered our passions addressed.

So forgive me darling if I sing not of praise
For your childish whims and ignorance,
Because the rose tinted glasses I set all ablaze;
Your confessions, alas, were sweeter incense.

Let us hope that the ring we've held onto so long
Will, as youth's fervent dreams, prove just as strong.
I noticed that a lot of the poetry, stories, ect. that have been put out on this site had a lot to do with a very immature state of love. (Butterflies in your stomach, longing day and night for someone you were just talking to a couple of hours ago, willing to sacrifice the whole world if only to please them, ect.) And because I am someone who only briefly passed through that stage (good times, I will admit), I wanted to make a tribute to the next step after that. The one where you're part of each other, truly, so much that sometimes seeing them seems as lackluster a prospect as looking at yourself in the mirror. It's the stage where you take on burdens for each other-- not because you worship them, or long for their pleasure, but because you care about them.

So there you have it. I tried to write it in the traditional form of a sonnet, though I think I may have failed a tad. Hope you enjoy and that it makes you somewhat introspective.
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