Fool's Ale

Dearest Angel, could heaven be more cruel To shine your light upon my window sill? And give me the temperment of a fool If words decieve, let my tongue be held still A love not well explained, too harsh, too cross What my eyes fail to see, my soul embrace Not creed, nor right, shall take your light as loss So let tongues do as well, to kiss, to taste But the clouds do plot to block out the rays And the foolish does well to curse the sun As darkness collides to put shame to day Your majestic beauty remains unsung Doomed to wither as skin begins to pale Memories of warmth serves as the fools ale