my bride

My Bride.

She had such a pretty smile, green,
clear eyes… honesty personified;
she was to be my bride. I had been
down to the divine stream picking
costly stones to make a necklace,
just for her, when returning, she sat
in the park, near the spring of youth,
whispering words of adoration into
the ears of another man, her clear,
green eyes were full of truth and love.
I gave the rivulet back its precious
gift; walked for years, through many
lands, and never once returned to see
what had become of my bride.