A Testament To Our Love

A testament to our love

Locked deep down in an ancient tomb

Our scribes of love rest quietly 

Safe within an eternal womb 

Waxed parchments rolled up tightly 

Every longing kiss, each sweet caress

Recorded so fastidiously

Documented by the lone abbess

Her task taken religiously 

The early manuscripts, their margins full 

Enshrined in bold calligraphy 

Embossed with illustrations many

The sweetest study of epigraphy

The only light, the oil lamp burning

While the prioress alone waits in her chair

For sparse are recent scrolls to wit:

Their pages bare, notations rare

Her quill has dried from idleness 

Hands aged and arthritic 

The tender moments far and few

For nothing journalistic 

Has transpired between the hearts

Of the two she documents

Days run into to other days 

With nothing added to her lament

An occasional pat of a friendly hand

Or an obligatory peck of the lips

But no real passion has been exchanged

Below these lover’s hips

But the fervor and the flame

Ebb and flow, a living being

What once was calm, makes a frothy foam 

A lust that needs annealing 

Soon the scratching of her pen

Breaks the dreadful silence

For the yearning yields once more

Two hearts in true alliance 

More earthen jars fill one by one

With descriptive lines of longing thereof

Announce the reign of lust once more

A Testament To Our Love

John snelling 

05:18:22