After reading Rupert Brooke's(1887-1915)
sonnet I said splendidly I loved you(1910).
Having loved, they can't
forget it, yet can't target
love right, where it belongs -
to the known past, to caress
some beloved face lost,
or to the unknown future,
holding it for some face
yet unglimpsed. No,
their love goes astray,
wanders homeless,
knocking on doors
unwanted, no longer
love, but mere desire,
a lesser thing seeking
ephemeral joy in
unlasting moments,
not happiness carved
deep in time.
15.07.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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