uncertainty
about my fealty
arises,
smoldering
under moist,
tender places --
those that have
endured far too much
for any one soul --
and a fire that I never
intended,
threatens to scar
what I hold so dear;
a foolish poke of fun,
now can make undone
all the centuries
that we have won?
no, I pray, let ruin
not come to stay,
let me again pledge,
all that I am,
to Your Love
and Your Honor;
that she is part of my
history cannot be denied;
but that love was long ago
lost, if it ever really was:
it is now a forgotten mystery;
unto You, I promise anew,
fidelity,
all of me:
I am Yours.
January 18, 2010, for the Wifey.
Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.
1/18/10
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