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The Gift
by Tamara Beryl Latham

What have you left me, love?
A tear that flows through time-
To bathe the last of men...

That tumbles as a massive
Waterfall- to quench the embers
Of a passioned heart

That soaks the final breath
Without remorse- to drench a flaming
Fire (and yet, my soul perceived my
Body lived- respired for you alone)

For all we may have been, and are, 
And were; I've nothing left... stripped
Of fine veneer, except your carefully
Chosen valued gift,

Alas! contained within an oaken box-
Fluid in its movement, a rolling
Tombstone, with heft enough to drown
An endless love
        
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Poem ID: 49285   Poem Posted: 10/31/2000
Viewed: 21885  Voted On: 261  E-mailed: 34  Commented On: 1
 
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Copyright , 1999,  all rights reserved by the author.
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