Like a thunderbolt through the heart,
She was beauty, a work of art,
A snowfield on a summer's day,
She was an angel here to stay.
Such loving eyes to gaze upon,
How could I ever do her wrong,
The moment of truth did come then,
As I wrote with paper and pen.
Was she truly the love for me?
This is something that I must see,
Plainly my love for her was torn,
To walk in two worlds I was sworn.
One of love the other duty,
Neither shall wane but one must be.
(Eight syllables per line)