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Portrait of the Artist as a Lone Tree


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Rejected rings

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Oh, I was once the lover and beloved;
my name is now forgot, except in hate.
Yet all the aging memories, too late
return to form this shroud in which Iím covered.
Dead memories, that haunt me now and then,
with thoughts of how I once was dear and nearer
to one who loved me always deep and dearer,
from year to year, forever and amen.
But in the bitter end, rejected rings
reveal that freedom ever will you lack;
your sister-twin returned to take you back,
and you could not resist her infant strings.
You are the woman once I loved and married;
no closer blows than yours were ever parried.

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