My First Attempt at

My First Attempt at a Troubadour Poem

After sun has run its course away

and horizon parts its goodbye kiss to day

and after stars have tumbled from their height

and blanch from vision given by the night-

Or after spring buds bloom to summer fruit

and ripen in the fall that follows suit-

and after winter’s night and sunless day

have passed again to long blue skies from grey-

Always after these comes something new

and new things grow where once the old things grew.

But yet my love, with scorn for time-wrought chains,

stands above its passing and remains.


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