UNBORN LOVE.

In the womb it softly lay,
A pulse of hope not far away.
I felt its rise -- so swift, so near --
Yet fate had drawn its dagger clear.

Before it bloomed, I had to part,
To tear it from my growing heart.
It never saw the earth, the skies,
Nor did the world through longing eyes.

A love it was -- so pure, so wild --
A dream unborn, a voiceless child.
Had I let it breathe and grow,
Desire's fire it well might know.

But fate, the thief with silent tread,
Struck my dream and left it dead.
Still, in my soul, its ache remains,
A ghost that walks through silent pains.
Its memories now begin to sear,
A wound of love too deep, too dear.