Your Hand In Mine 

by ianblackpoet

I made an anchor of my heart 
When first I felt your hand in mine, 
And though we deign to live apart – 
My soul with yours remains entwined; 
But does an anchor not bestow 
The vessel with a leaden crown – 
At once made firm and faithful, though 
A subject to be bidden down; 
And such a gift I offer you 
As I deny to lesser kings – 
The fullness of my being due 
As tributary gold or rings; 
The waking hours of my mind 
Devoted only to your praise, 
With all I once adored resigned 
To memories of bygone days; 
Entrusting happiness to hope 
That never steered me right before, 
Another night in vain to cope 
With only darkness at my door; 
Perhaps to see my dreams beneath 
A weight of expectation crushed – 
The songs of love your touch bequeaths 
Diminished to a solemn hush; 
And what have you to sacrifice, 
What token did I ever ask? 
Was I so easily enticed, 
And you so worthy of the task? 
Should disappointment follow me 
With passion burning bright and bold, 
How devastated I would be 
To find your flame is bitter cold; 
Perhaps to live without a care – 
With nothing ventured, nothing lost – 
A sullen weight of sorrow spared 
Would ease the burden of the cost; 
Were life so simple or the heart 
So tame, I would not hold you dear – 
But in these endless days apart, 
My purpose beckons true and clear; 
The love of you commands me still, 
Upon your answer I depend – 
And I believe, for good or ill, 
The truth will echo in the end.