My love, is not the freezing end a lie?

A sonnet about past love.

My love, is not the freezing end a lie?

We said we’d try again another time;

For love in youth will always say goodbye,

But evermore, I play my haunted chime:

To wish my love had stayed her hand for me;

Had not the right resolve to move her feet;

Or met the man whose children came to be,

From on her lovely canvas they would eat.

Will not I see my love once after this?

Will not I whisper softly over fate?

Will not I tell her she is all I miss?

But will she laugh at how my heart would wait?

In night, I dream of sick and lonely love,

While tiny dogs are dancing with a dove.

Author's Note

Any feedback is appreciated.

Reviews

[mattavelli]

Hello, Brian! :)
This is lovely rhythmic poetry, well phrased, and tragic.