To her who once loved me
(after Percy Bysshe Shelley)
Princess, why did you call me
with longing in your voice,
but when you wanted to be free,
did not leave me another choice?
In some of your writings that to me you address
you speak of passed bliss
there are tears and sheer unhappiness
and it’s as if you are yearning for another kiss?
It is now running to years
that I have to live with emptiness
and I am brave beyond any fears
but I am viewing any friendship with a kind of aloofness.
Keep from sending love and promises that have to be made,
if your love like the stars at break of day is soon to fade.
[Reference: “To Emilia Viviani” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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