ANOTHER DAY WITHOUT HER

The day we met, I was betrothed
to another. When she went away,
she became despised.
What else, can I say?

Chains, my heart encased.
Mind hampered with her image.
Her touch, erased.
Missives yellowed with age.

Somehow, she crept back into my life.
Her face, I long to touch.
No longer, can I endeavor to belly-ache,
attempt, to treasure her much.

Without her, life is a prosaic narravive.
An ache, an ounce of merit.
To my dying day, I'll grieve.
Another, day without her, there is no reprieve.