Did’st thou forget where hopeless lover sprang from
Not your modern sparkling blood suckers
Not your star crossed werewolves
Not your dainty upper crust debutantes
But from poetry
From the poems of life
Which art does so poorly imitate
From the scripture of the worker
From the not so quite ancient days
When lovers sailed away
To find their place
From the rash heartbreaks
From those verses of yesterday
Not those shades of grey
That displace your face
And find your faith delayed
But from the plays we played
And the words we said
From Romeo and Juliet
Began that creative trend
Rushing full blushing
In to their foolish end
But then again it is their love I covet
Hence my love poems are birthed
Pale imitators of past affections
So when I say I love thee
As the sun loves the moon
When I rush to reach what can never be grasped
If ever we are together
Knowing it will never really last
Let me hold you in Shakespearian affections
All lust, and love
All ash to ash and deadly brash