Melancholy Memory
Her charming beauty
Upon my naked soul.
Threaded deep- sighted through
Her, no fault.
Our friendship- a bond
Our heart couldn’t resist.
Her soul, my soul, soon one
But not long.
Love we nurtured for
Three harvests, perished too
Soon- A signal that I
Am mortal.
The night of her death
Called me insane lover,
Who reared uncertainty,
Tears can’t wake.
Her caring, no more,
But her spirit lives on.
The words and love we shared
Stays amok.
Melancholy form of poetry (5/6/6/3 per line of five stanza) is adopted in this poem. The trailblazer of the form is Constance La France.
17/5/2013
For: Constance La France's "Melancholy Contest"
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