My Love

I will tell my love when I next see her
That these fetters can come off. We've
Learned she holds the key, and I'll
Tell her I'm keen to dance. I'll point up
At the sky to show her how the sun
Remains in hiding when my love is next
To me. The poor old star is overawed,
And will not leave its cloudy curtains
Until she, who shines more brightly,
Burns with more intensity, retreats,
At which point I will curse the day
For its now-somber light, and feel
The fetters once more at my feet.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 61 times
Written on 2018-11-09 at 20:13

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email
dott Print text

night soul woman The PoetBay support member heart!
I had to check the dictionary for the word: fetters and it is possible that your love feels that you are the sun and you might burn her?Lovely written!

I've read it for many times. I am particularly haunted by the images of "fetters." Such a grotesque image that's been violently yoked together with "love."