Near midnight she pedals her rented bike past Checkpoint Charlie. Vacant, but suitably restored, the off-white, utilitarian guard box occupies the middle of the street, protected from a barrage of ... [+]
Seven years
Were but a day,
Where love grew as
life passed away.
Her lovely eyes
at me would stare,
As they peered through
her lovely hair.
Her father asked
A heavy price,
But her fair heart
Abates all vice.
So as the sun
Rolls through the days,
I labor with
Her passing gaze.
For my true love,
Is why I say
That seven years
Were but a day.
Were but a day,
Where love grew as
life passed away.
Her lovely eyes
at me would stare,
As they peered through
her lovely hair.
Her father asked
A heavy price,
But her fair heart
Abates all vice.
So as the sun
Rolls through the days,
I labor with
Her passing gaze.
For my true love,
Is why I say
That seven years
Were but a day.