Of Beggar and King...

On such a night as this I should be glad

And so I am; but love can be so cruel

As solitude unravels from a spool

Where memories both thrill and make me sad…

The want of what is not could drive me mad

On such a night as this thought is a thief

Stealing from garden’s of repose, its bloom

I hold it to my cheek; thought can’t exhume

What Time has buried in its swollen sheaf

We gather but to yield love’s joy and grief

On such a night I would not change a thing

For dearer than love’s smile must be its tear

And Time is but the tenure of a year

Where no one is immune to its keen sting

Of being both a beggar and a king

 Janet Martin