In the tragedy of love’s uncertainties, we dwell,
The unknown beloved, a tale we often tell,
In New England’s embrace, by the lighted pane,
Passing by a lighted window, a fleeting glance,
a fire, a flame, for me a second chance.

Through woods, I wandered, love’s certainty in doubt,
A path uncharted shadows all about,
A tragedy of love, a mournful refrain,
The unknown beloved silhouette in a window’s gleam,
Man to man, a fleeting gesture, like a dream.

From New England’s heart, from a car window’s view,
The cause of this is known not, but I’ll share with you,
Man to man, a fleeting glance, I’ll share,
I shall not weep, I shall not be afraid,
For when she passed, the rainbow’s hues displayed.

From New England’s heart, smoke did arise,
Yet from a car window, it softly flies,
For my unknown beloved, a secret I did bear.
The cause of this, a mystery you cannot know,
But I shall not weep, nor shall I fear to show.

Where she passed, melted glass, a rainbow left behind,
Vistas open, but to the forest, I was confined,
To chase a butterfly, in nocturne’s spring,
A threshold crossed, a memory on the wing.

Vistas beyond the forest, to a butterfly’s flight,
Nocturnes of remembering, in the darkest night,
A love song whispered from a car’s domain,
A threshold crossed, a love that failed to return,
Jerked heartstrings in a distant town, like raging fires burn.

A wanderer’s wanting, passions flame, waters cannot drown,
Upon my return, clouded thoughts like smoke filled the town,
She was seen through lighted windows, unable to bear, heart in pain,
a young couple’s plight, I plotted as seven moons did rise,
The winds carried away my dreams like smoke and Mary’s sighs.

A wanderer’s lonely path, seven times the moon hid my life,
A wanderer’s parting after a quarrel igniting my strife,
The cause concealed, winds whispering, a mystery untold,
Winds stoked the flames that burned in house and home,
Of John O’Leary and Mary, their guilt, their innocence unknown.

The dream house stood, mocking a dream of desire,
Let it be forgotten before I locked the door, I stoked the fire,
Yet, I shall not weep, nor be filled with dread,
Doubt may cloud the heart, like smoke, as I turned the key,
In the tragedy of certainties, closure sets us free.

Mary, the helper of heartbreak’s bitter toll,
In the tragedy of loss, the loss consoles the soul,
In shadows and ash, they now wander, their story, old.
A decent burial for love that has passed,
I sat among the burnt wood and ash; memories amassed.

Helpers of heartbreak, in tragedies are often lost,
as we seek a decent burial for love’s heavy cost,
For my unknown beloved, my heart is no longer dead,
when she crossed the rainbow, I, no longer lost in thought,
the dream house in memory fading, let it all be forgot.

This is part of a TABLE OF CONTENTS restraint poem- In this constraint, I have taken a Poetry Anthology originally published in 1925. Each section contains 20-40 titles. My Constraint was to use as many words as possible in the table of contents to construct a new Poem.