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In the light of a winters night, I sit, I yearn, yearn for the times
Where the glisten of your eye lit the darkest of days.
The warmth of your touch embroiled all that chilled.
Yet those days have gone, I’m left in this cold, dark abyss,
Bereft of the love I so sorely miss.
Oh! Why does this pain scorch the core, the core of this stoic temple,
Built for the sanguine reverence of the truest of love.
For the unaltered bliss that lit the stars.
Unveiling the moon, bathing the bloom in a benign glow,
A sweeping cascade of ghostly beauty in full flow.
Alas, the cascade met the raging torrents, baying chasms, a void,
Twisting and savaging the fragile junctures of a fledging seed,
Layer by layer dismembering the walls we called life,
Until, exposed to the evils of a bitter reality,
We collapse into the void, victims of our own frailty.
So here I sit, in times of change, conspicuous in all I do,
Your smell still rankles, in this mind, a barren scope of solemn lust,
And though I cope, if cope is to reflect, the pain is tied around my neck,
In this old harbour, sits your ship, solitary as grey clouds swirl,
And still I believe in you, my girl.
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