Sonnet: What If

You who guessed my secret vow, not love.

No, you saw with an inner eye the truth;

Would that I could have met that gaze thereof,

Or let just one small voice escape that youth;

Only to give the briefest glimpse of me.

In dreams it comes to lay at my still feet,

Contorted by years, twisted by to be;

A fluttering memory, sickly sweet.

No longer do I wish for some new way,

As I have found a measure of Thy grace.

I would not give this present healing day,

Nor would I let this past take aching place.

For when I look at what that would allow,

I revel in the knowledge of the now.


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