A new month, and as it happens, a Friday. This week our epic poem takes an ominous turn:
Moments may sway us, but kisses betray us, For fate won't obey us, and oft goes astray Twas fateful that meeting, two hearts fiercely beating But alas, joy is fleeting when stolen away In a turn most appalling the darkness came calling For a curse was befalling, a thing of their fears And a figure demonic - it was almost iconic - In voice monotonic said: "Seventeen years!" It was all rather vexing, and sorely perplexing, This grim specter hexing their love most sublime "What be you?" they wondered, then the night air was sundered As the dark figure thundered: "The demon - of Time!"