To talk of gentle love and me,
Seems something of an oddity.
Yet to speak of angels as muses sing,
Used to come so naturally.
A somber sonnet of the soul,
Would ease the pain of heartache's toll.
And bring with it some great delight,
Yet now that gift has taken flight.
I cannot find the words once more,
All left behind on battered shores,
Of love and loss and life now gone,
I've lost the strength to carry on.
No words shall leave this shaking hand,
Of light and hope and love once grand.
And soon shall I then fade from view,
As my words have after you.
A broken angel on borrowed wings,
To teach of love and what it brings,
To show there beauty at its best,
And lay a wild heart to rest.
To teach of pain then born of passion,
And mark the soul in subtle fashion,
To linger there in memory,
Forever bathed in agony.
Take this then, my parting gift,
A simple thing which I will miss.
My pen and heart belong to you,
Goodbye my love and gentle muse.