A love poem of another tomorrow,
a story which seems to be borrowed.
Centuries old, it’s forever told.
The love of a man, by the woman forgotten.
The heart trod on.
Out lived and never out dated.
He thought he had just mated.
Her heart strings pulled,
lulled into a sense of security and sweet perfume.
But they weren’t in tune.
A young man,
a free man,
a man with many seeds to sow.
A young woman,
a free woman,
a woman who wanted those seeds to grow.
Her hope showed,
but he saw that hope as a rope,
tighter and tighter,
it frightened him beyond belief,
her heart broke,
The game played, ropes and strings.
Of kings controlling queens running rings.
A circus trick,
it all happens so quick.
The lessons never learnt, people forever burnt.