For The Birthday

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Sonnet
by Serai


It is not true I missed you not at all,
And neither is it true I did not weep.
'Twould be a lie to say I shunned your call
Or that you were not with me in my sleep.

But then again, it is not true I pined,
Forsaking all who love me, in my grief.
For sorrow wounds, but love will always find
A way to spend itself in lost relief.

They say that love once lost can be forgot
And sweet forgetting shall its spell o'ercast.
But I say 'tis a lie, one too dear bought
That sets at naught the bond of loving past.

For though 'tis light, the thread that spans the sea,
Its strength shall weave the road 'tween you and me.