once

An antiquity of a poem, written at the denouement of his first true romance. Mourning not just the end of an era, but the loss of sanity and emotional integrity. Confessing his failure.

once

choose your weapon...clasp the hilt...
behold the plain where blood is spilt.
steal my thunder...steal my dream...
but tamper not with poet's theme.

you loved me,
once. when flowers played
at wind's command...
when dreams smiled,
but only at those who held
a lover's hand.

you loved me.
but I was not aware
of all that meant...
and the delicate blossom,
sterile, fell with mourning petals,
its energy spent.

you loved me.
and we can never return
to that sphere...
I didn't know what
it was we shared...and only now
may I shed a tear.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.