Love Cometh

I sought her whom my soul could loveth.
By night on my bed I sought her,
but found her not.
I rose and went about the city streets.
I sought her, but found her not.
Time passed... I found her whom my soul loveth.
I held her, and would not let her go.
Our love grows.
Ye lips so soft, touch so gentle, speech so comely.
A love so sentimental; her coverings doffed.
I sought her whom my soul could loveth...
My love, she cometh.
~Brian Blackwell

Copyright © 2008 Brian Blackwell