I will not suffer you, who stole my muse, <br />To sing no praises higher than your own; <br />No calling on past favours to atone <br />These present insults won that I should lose. <br />It's not for my poor artistry to choose, <br />When patience wears its sole so thinly grown; <br />What words should braze and buckle all I've known, <br />So I might suffer you, who stole my muse? <br />My muse did as the sky does in the rain, <br />And darker as the sun's last rays withdrew, <br />Into the black of heaven's empty anger; <br />No inspiration lives with me and you. <br /> These words will cry upon my soul's last hunger, <br /> And drown alone as long as I remain. <br /> <br />- November 30,2005<br /><br />David Zvekic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/font-color-880000-as-long-as-i-remain-petrarchan/
