No Remorse - Poem by William Coyne
Out of great misery may rise a small sweet song,
a peach fuzzed golden petal unbruised by a storm,
torn from the stem, now distant from its fragrant source,
withering away its final days,
sweetly, innocent, with no remorse.
Come, then, more the memories of sweet and doey eyes
you lovingly draped over my sullen gazes.
You were not mine to have in flowered pastures,
embracing away our final days
under long shadows of shading firs.
The black storms raged in my breast endlessly for years,
yet yielded drops of sweetest nectar I stored away,
and sip on now, not to ease my present ailments,
but to gild the rim of final days
in soft memories of love well spent.
Comments about No Remorse by William Coyne
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You