Hereinabove I give my word to love
You can't rule my heart with a kiss
Even with a thing of near bliss,
Its tokens shall go, slightly amiss.
Sees I cannot vouch for my desires.
They're like bees amid the pyres
They're not wickets for umpires.
They're not governed or fixed:
In the suns/moonlight admixed…
These choices, they've not been prefixed.
Although I can't; avow my love
It's from; hereon - hereinabove
I believe now on I shall hereof.
Mark Heathcote's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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