ABIGAIL CHARMAINE by Jeffrey Littrell


a sprig of baby’s breath

is all that I have left

of Abigail Charmaine, of Devonshire

she passed, still in her youth

and no one knew the truth

of our sweet union, born from passion’s fire


her father cursed my lineage

questioning my parentage

concluding, I not worthy of her hand

his wealth and his position

the strength of his volition

ensured that all must heed to his demand


she’d steal away at night

kept well out of sight

and meet me in the mists of Avalon

a clandestine embrace

her moonlight-haloed face

an angel that the stars shine down upon


soon her visits ceased to be

he kept her locked away from me

the grief and sorrow tore my world apart

her sweet spirit, then her mind

left her in due time

until she finally died of broken heart


so now when moonlight’s gleaming

it starts my tears to streaming

evoking memories of my heart’s desire

she’s a distant weeping ghost

this one I love the most

Abigail Charmaine, of Devonshire

About digthroughlife

I am a fifty-three year old poet who also writes fiction. I worked twenty-three years for the USPS, though never enthusiastically. I am a member of French Writers Worldwide and have had several poems published in French and Spanish. I hold strong opinions on music, film, and human rights. Some of my influences are Charles Bukowski, Arthur Rimbaud, Dylan Thomas, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, Sylvia Plath, W.B Yeats, Bob Marley, William Blake, and Hunter S. Thompson. I'm an avid fan of the New York Yankees, Oakland Raiders, and Indiana Pacers. I like traveling by car. I enjoy seeing rock and alt-country bands in small venues. I hold a black belt in Taekwondo, but no longer spar due to injuries incurred in a motorcycle accident in 2005. I play acoustic guitar. I love Crown Royal whiskey and California Kush. Women are both the bane of my existence and all that sustains me. I believe strongly in the power of love and heartbreak. View all posts by digthroughlife

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