Grace

What, sweet love, will you the minion of that
Tyrant Time become, and in the ripest
Season of our lives my love’s hot fires arrest,
Till all in ashes lie my strength and that

Which is the sign of my remaining youth?
Will you deny me that which is the gate
To our divinity, and sweet love frustrate
In vain attempts at gaining of your ruth?

What sin is’t, then, if we, in love’s embrace
Defeat both Time and Age, and both regain,
By love, our youth, our joy, our blissful Garden

Of delight? Come, let us find our way again
And let with kisses fine transcend our fallen
State till we, with bodies twined, regain lost grace.

 

—© Jim Valero, 2014 (All rights reserved).