As lust for life engages all we do,
and fortune bids us naught but sorrowed pain
all cross-borne sadness hides our passions true,
I beg you strive for blessings to remain.
Contained within our altars' holy font
with loving memories we both hold so dear,
are dutifully coupled midst our want,
capricious yearnings lingering far, yet near.
No man's shackles might bind his virtued heart
nor sullied memories ever take his due
measure regarded from the very start,
held ever bound by loving thoughts of you.
Think not the past absolves the need for lust,
nor faintly heeded, e'er requites the just.
A little something for the rest of us...