ballade at thirty-five

this

no song of ingenue

this

no ballad of innocence

this

the rhyme of a lady who

followed ever the natural bents

this

a solo of sapience

this

a chantey of sophistry

this

the sum of experiments

-

i loved them until they loved me

decked in garments of sable hue

daubed with ashes of myriad lents

wearing shower bouquets of rue

walk i ever in penitence

oft i roam

as my heart repents

through god's acre of memory

marking stones

in my reverence

i loved them until they loved me."