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True Love
On a hill far away, a true love waits,
In a place of weathered, broken gates.
And though the gates are falling down,
One place on the hill is hallowed ground.
Nothing moves on that faraway hill,
But dry, dead leaves and a wind that’s chill.
And an old weathered man, broken and frail,
Bent by the winds of an unseen gale.
Who patiently kneels to weed and clean,
There, where the sod is level and green.
A distant and dreamy light in his eyes,
He sweeps the spot where his true love lies.
And the marigolds he planted with love
Softly glow in the light from above.
The moments always too swiftly pass,
Till darkness twines with the leaves of grass.
And as he slowly rises to go,
His heart remains with his love, below.
He goes away from the weathered place,
And is stopped by a friend who sees his face.
“Where have you been?” the old man hears,
And thinks of his journey through the years,
The spot on the hill with the broken gates,
And the patch of green where his true love waits.
He had said to her that very day,
“I’m going, but soon I’ll be back to stay.”
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Roger Crane, a native of San Diego, is a retired English teacher. His self-published book of poetry is Revelations in the Dawn.
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Very nice Roger, poignant and evocative. Love will always be an eternal theme of poetry.
Love, Devotion, Loyalty. Makes me think that love is indeed a noun, but more, it is a verb.
thank you, Clive. I surprised myself with this poem.
Thank you for your observation, Michael. Love to me is the most mysterious thing in life.
A love that endures long beyond the passing of one is both a great thing and somehow achingly melancholy for the one left behind.
Just as a suggestion, how about changing ‘a wind that’s chill’ to ‘a windy chill’.
Nicely told, Roger.
You’ve captured my thoughts well, Paul, and thank you for saying so.
That is one of the most beautiful love poems I have ever read! The rhyme, meter, and couplet structure all contributed to your touching precious words of enduring endearment. Even a person with a rock for a heart should feel moved.
Roy, I am overwhelmed and overjoyed by your praise for my poem, and I have read a number of your great poems, so it means even more. Thanks.
Very moving, especially the end.
Thank you, Cynthia. I don’t always feel that the end is so fitting, but I also liked how it came out–since there were two “true loves” here–and he had no life outside of this spot on the hill. I appreciate your noticing.
An evocative piece indeed. You reinforce Larkin’s famous words: What will survive of us is love.
Thank you, David. Yes, love is the one thing here that has an eternal life of its own. It dwells with us, provides all the light we need for life, and survives in the hearts of those we leave behind whom we have loved. Thanks again.