How can I sleep, my love is not there?
How can I not weep, I miss her glare?
Her smiling figure, the morning sun
Her loving heart fills mine with fun.
I miss her sweet voice, god’s chorister,
Ringing in my ear as pleading barrister;
Her beauty and soul formed a cloister,
Shining like the stars singing vespers.
I yearn for her touch the night long,
I toss in bed when anything is wrong;
My heart pulses with feelings strong,
To reach out to her with a love song.
In the maddening maze of warm desires,
Amid the realm of passion and its fires,
By the marvels of love and its miracles,
The dreams become to the heart oracles.
The hours seem endless like the stars,
I pray god to shun their painful scars,
Yet dreams of her are the sweetest ones,
I write her poems fired with love guns.
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