Friday, December 7, 2012
Amy Bardwell (A Fictional Love Story)
He entered the room of my life
where I sat balanced in joy and pain,
And smote the air of my peace with his story
of his wretchedness with his wife.
I love my husband, but had forgotten;
And I fled with this man to find new life,
Fooled by the light of love!
But what is love? Is it only to say
You love, and yield your lips to the man?
Or is love living, till every minor,
Tapestry, lamp and shelf of books
has taken your souls and become your souls?
And so when I felt the urge of uneasiness, I ran
and the table cloth
entangled me, dragged the cups and pitcher
from the Feast of Life to wreck on the floor,
Could I go back to a room of ruins?
New cups and pitches cannot be won ,
and so I sat at a lonely window,
And watched him pass, and smile on his wife,
Whom he returned to, leaving me
To mend my broken goblets!