Metre of my heart, measure of my breath,
inscrutable as the void of a star's death;
until fate smothers the last day's light
your metre, your measure, chastens night.
No cloud can shade the gold of your love.
No coal fire can rise and choke hearths above.
The clear of your eyes, the unspoken law,
dispels clouds and coats day in clement awe.
1 comment:
Achingly beautiful . Brought tears to my eyes . Your dear mother must be proud and I hope your cousin Para has read this too so she will know how precious you are in this horrid world we live in . Allan
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