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,

wrapped around,

tighter and tighter,

it frightened him beyond belief,

her heart broke,

no relief.

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.