For years her poem slept between
the pages of an old book in the
attic..
She loved me and I loved her but
something went wrong and we parted
For years I languished in guilt and
self doubt about what went went wrong
Time had blunted most of the hellish
pain that had ripped through my soul
in midnight hours
But still..the question of why had
lingered on..
I unfolded the poem which by now had
yellowed with time
It seemed a wiff of her perfume had emited
it's last aroma as I opened the neatly
folded paper
Her tears smugged the ink within the lines
of her soulful words
and this stained poem was her final
memorial to a love that had been choked
by the thorns of misunderstanding
She wrote in words of gentleness that make
me cry for the magic of her touch
What was I without her?
How could I have gone on so long when
the taste of her lips had awakened me
for a thousand nights
What can a man be..what can I be..without her
In dreams I fall upon her neck with kisses
of my soul
In day light I grieve for her dimond moons
There is no sun that can brighten my day
For she is the day of my heart
But where can she be now/
Who has stoled the preciousness of my heart
Bowed over I clutch this poem as a broken
Man
Sun rise has lost its meaning
Starlight is for the magic of another
All I have left are words of breathless
Sorrow
All that remains of me are shadows of
what could have been
All is gone
All I have are tears in the attic~