My heart is but a Hut
Of love amid a desolate Moor
Of loneliness. One whose thatches
Of love, the finest of all that doth glow.
My heart is but a Hut
Of memories amid a desolate Moor
Of nostaligia. One whose thatches
Of love now lost her heavenly glow.
My heart is but a Hut
Of wild longing amid a desolate Moor
Of doldrums. One whose thatches
Of love marred with coldness of snow.
For there came a strange day
When winds of hate in robes of sorrow
Assailed her, buffeted her thatches away
Thus now but a roofless heart evermore.
My heart is but a Hut
Of despair amid a desolate Moor
Of memorabilia. A heart now but a Hut
Plumed with golden moments evermore.
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
My heart is but a Hut
Of love amid a desolate Moor
Of loneliness. One whose thatches
Of love, the finest of all that doth glow.
My heart is but a Hut
Of memories amid a desolate Moor
Of nostaligia. One whose thatches
Of love now lost her heavenly glow.
My heart is but a Hut
Of wild longing amid a desolate Moor
Of doldrums. One whose thatches
Of love marred with coldness of snow.
For there came a strange day
When winds of hate in robes of sorrow
Assailed her, buffeted her thatches away
Thus now but a roofless heart evermore.
My heart is but a Hut
Of despair amid a desolate Moor
Of memorabilia. A heart now but a Hut
Plumed with golden moments evermore.
Request permission to use this poem