Thou ask me to bide, ‏yet a little long.
‏I do, ‏I long for confluence at betrayal's time.

‏Loyal, ‏still and all, ‏the sky stays along.
‏Hand in hand, ‏together we chime.

‏Yet, ‏it's thee whose sight and amity I long.
‏Hold my hand for a moment or two, ‏I don't ask for lifetime.

‏Lord may have known, ‏when my complaints became a song.
‏For each whose being, ‏like mine, ‏sounds like a romantic rhyme.

‏Just one call and I'll come running to thee, ‏tearing the throng.
‏I'll be the moon of thy darkest nights, ‏in hard times.

‏Come, ‏kill me. ‏Why disgrace my zeal? ‏Why prolong?
‏I won't complain once, ‏just pronounce my love one last time.

‏I'd be gay to tell the tale ‎of ‎my ‎demise, ‏as ‎if ‎it ‎were ‎a ‎birdsong.‏
‏It'd ‎be ‎the ‎merriest tale ‎of ‎all ‎times.

© Untold Tales