An Ode To Bernard F. Asuncion Poem by John Lars Zwerenz

In this weary, old vale
Where the moonlight, pale,
Brings no solace to the teeming mass,
Through words I met a poet named Bernard
The graceful prince of a lovely lass,
Who took his time
To dedicate
A poem of mine
Which touched my fate
In tearful ways
Which I shall not forget,
In the coming nights and days.
And the only thing I do regret
Is not to be able to kiss his hand,
For his words are of God,
And his soul is truly grand.

John Lars Zwerenz