Sonnet XXI

For five long years it has been cold and bleak;
Perhaps it more, I was never so sure
If that was true or if it be so weak
A lie that time has forced me to endure.
I've gone and searched to fill this aging void
With what I turned to love in my posthaste;
Though it has not returned I have enjoyed
The feigning joys of love that I had chased.
But looking back I know I worked in vain;
No love did come to me in those five years.
The aches of heart, not theirs, on this campaign
Has driven me to cry these made-up tears.
I shall not chase the dreams my heart creates;
I tire waiting for illusioned dates.