quietrobert209

Today I'm going to do something a little different. I'm posting a poem that I wrote. I'm a fan of Shakespeare, and always wanted to write something in that vain. I hope you enjoy it.



I Wait

Too late good sir, for thyne heart has been pierced by Cupid's arrow,
and I like a fool, wait and watch as her eyes look to his face with love, and comfort
And I know that she will look to me for the same.
O how I wish for her eyes to look to upon me!
Alas, I must wait and hold to thyne own nobility.
For I suffer a poet's life. . .
Hard as it maybe. . . And beyond my own comprehension.
That I look for love
where there is none . . .
and still I look with eyes so weary that when I do see true love for what it is. . .
I will not chance the miscalculations that I have made previously manufactured in my own mind.
And with these exhausted eyes,
I close to sleep,
to reflect on the days to come,
and hope that I see enriched days ahead.
I will wait as I have waited this long measure.
By chance fate will choose my longing
for her to be short or prolonged. . .
I Wait. . .