She stares at me with hate
No love but competing;
It is hate's words that are beating
a timeless drum of fate.

I departed with love's kiss,
An essential splendor
Filled with the scent of the hour
Your love is really what I miss

Shall she accept me again
Or heed to the voices
All out of sorts and stranger places
Leaves her crying with hurt’s pain

I wish love was real
For this is what it should be
The icon without time you see
Love is beyond an emotion you feel.

Sidney.F.Bromfield ("The Eternal Sin")



email: sidneybromfield@mail.com