Frankenstein Poem by Naveed Khalid

Me too hath loved thee more than I
against all odds, all vicissitudes of the sky
to prove thee virtuous where my head is,
of no wit to my mind still but pure heaven,
that in the mellowing year of spring
under the Archangel's brow,
some such snowflakes in winter cold
of laurel wreath thy myrtle crown:
along the pavement of cow parsley that man of old,
of whom, they say, I know not, nor need to know,
that Faust of our glorious days in a death-like trance,
too deep for woe of unhindered scope this world beside,
darkly lit in thy abode at sunset of the evening sky;
e'ery flower upon a barren heath in my bed of crimson joy,
a mistletoe on his back too but bewails the night,
of ages that are dead upon the sand dunes by the sea-ashore.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Wednesday, May 27,2015 7: 13: 13 PM