Wonton Love
I’m no poor man unless I give away
What life and beauty owe me more than most,
Although I do not fear that I would ever stray
From love of which I’d sooner dream than boast.
When all which perishes is born again
To hold me near my memory of you,
I look away, though never would I feign
What might inspire my words and make them true.
A tree grows fair with age despite the leaves
Which fall into forgetfulness at first,
Whereas your eyes change color when the thieves
Of wonton love make hearts suspire with thirst.
What came before—and surely you forgot—
Is that which, once, with many tears, I bought.
Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com
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