Our precious months have none for charity,
Yet isolation; do by months donate
My waning form, for solidarity;
Absent of sickness, nearer distant fate.
My end seems meek and much less horrible,
Than if your eyes did scorn what time does crease
Upon my skin, less white adorable,
For yours of beauty stilled, mourn my decrease?
No! Worry not, for sweet your sweetheart's eye:
Abundant in immortal glory's stage,
When paired with you no longer I am I
But us! Now five years more, ten gone my age.
Yet that decrease, fear covid adds as
Corona's law: times two without your touch.
Law bid's my better self from me to part,
Across the sick laid world in viral war,
If wonder where's my best? Let check your heart;
Where all my vibrancy and ferver store,
Albeit are my eyes that make the artist,
And art is love when beauty forms the muse;
Is you that map my beauty true; sweet chartist!
But you had only mapped your own infuse.
When this abundance has your dearests seen;
True mind's deduction knows what bears without;
A kingdom ruled in vigil for a queen;
Steadfast a lesser king, still king devout.
My love - my best you have and best to know:
Pity my least, when most without your glow.
Oh lovely one, tho' time's unsavory,
Your privilege from it's change and creasing blade;
Deprives from time: decay's own slavery,
From your sweet youth that sweetest form has stayed.
What deity does guard your beauty's jewel?
Whom favored graces do continue more;
In time that sweeter mood will turn to cruel:
An infamy well known from those whom wore.
Ah! When that fearsome wand does show your wear,
Never me fooled; yes grey would hue your white
And happen all the while before my stare;
But love shan't change, nor day appear as night
Nor heart could grey nor love turn older stale'd.
If proved these false; mere proved my pulse had failed.
I tend this lockdown'd day in unmade bed,
Then greet the icy morn with bitter brew
But drown in distant news of many dead;
I gasp for foreign lives I never knew.
How near to you! Thus near my sacred stone;
Beholder of my love what love there bears,
If comfort's found beneath your chested bone,
Is mine revealed; a love when all else tears.
Ah! Meager seems my loneliest of lines,
When other loves have costlier of loss,
For ours shall turn when 'rona's force resigns;
Back to our hearted bridge at lover's cross,
But thought the pain if you succumbed the worse
Does think my end by body, soul, in hearse!