Pageant of Poems

Was there no truth to your beauty?
What of the lies your beauty told me?
Was your beauty all that there was to see?
Did I not make your beauty part of me?

Your beauty that shone like a beacon in a crowd!
Your beauty that veiled my senses in a shroud!
Your beauty, which deterred seeing your person?
Was your beauty not more… a gilded prison?

But time unyielding holds your beauty as hostage,
It acts on your beauty, displaying its ravage.
Your beauty so idly fears that it may lose its face.
Each passing year sends your beauty to its resting place.

Should you once beg of age to have mercy on your beauty,
Just recall what little mercy your beauty had on me.

Ronberge