Sometimes I like to write in ballad style. This is one such.
WE WILL NOT MEET AGAIN, MY LOVE
We will not meet again, my love,
Till all the seas run dry
You will not be alone, my love
If only you should cry.
The woods have grown high, my love,
I cannot see the hill
Where you and I did part, my love
To find an unknown ill.
The forests have all fallen, love,
The seas have come to death,
But I have grown hard, my love,
And cannot feel your breath.
copyright Simon Banks 2012