But a Day

Image of Long Story Short Award - Fall 2020
Image of Poetry
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.
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