Fair Capulet doth beauty claim,
Risen late tidings in fall remains.
I long to make known my manner.
Though love concave in own strings alter,
Mind contest and so hearts falter.
I rest my effort and concede to will.
Must lie accordance, slumber grew accustomed,
Tis foremost unreciprocated lust emotion.
False fortune I did collect.
Time unbeknownst, thus days unkind,
Dawn bloomed no longer in moonlit sky.
I rage within to lift the veiled night.
Though beauteous soul left unbrushed,
In shadows drops gallant wanderlust.
The Rose hath withered.
Photograph taken by © Jonas Maris 2007 – 2015.
All rights reserved.