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Final Love
by   Saint

Praise to the man, 
and praise to him alone, 
who can call a love his own... 
he who, in thought, can smile and say, 
"Tomorrow take my life, 
for I have loved today," 
be it fair and true, 
or foul and vain, 
in the sky's purest blue, 
or the storm's coldest rain. 

There lingers not a doubt 
that my heart will shine 
for the love I possess 
in spite of fate, is mine. 
Not heaven itself 
over love has power, 
so what I?ve loved, I?ve loved, 
and I have had my hour.
        
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Poem ID: 51400   Poem Posted: 11/28/2000
Viewed: 3143  Voted On: 51  E-mailed: 9  Commented On: 0
 
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