Oh, Love…

Oh, love, I’ve seen you autumn days
When hearts were less recalcitrant,
As leaves blew by in careless tumbles,
Lifted by the wind

Oh, love, I’ve seen you pensive, when
The heart grew fuller than the frame
Containing who and what we are,
These cans in which we’re tinned

For seldom truth we speak, although,
We claim to seek it all the time;
We vow it is our sacred right,
The one thing we would die for –

But as the rustling leaves blow by,
Our precious goals all go awry;
For what we’d have, we take as naught,
And shrink from what we’d try for

Oh, love, how do we lift this veil?
This covering of toil and stress?
I’d give you all I’ll ever have,
Except for my own selfishness

I’d hold you precious, all the time,
Except for my own
Selfishness

Author: Sibelius Russell

Sibelius Russell (a/k/a/ Owen "Beleaguered" Servant) lives a life of whimsical servitude -- whatever that means.

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