Sans her love.

Another dream shattered last night,

When the cuckoo clock rung at five.

She was on her red bed,

I were kissing her brown lips.

But it all broke with the sun's shine,

And with the brightest morning's glim.

All the sensual emotions of love,

All the lover's wish,

At the brink of fulfillment.

All lost, As if it never meant to be.

I woke up with the restlessness,

And thoughts of her in mine heart.

Every night and all those days,

Her dreams drags me to ecstasy,

And this unruly rising sun,

Brings me back to pain and reality.

I thought of writing all these,

On a paper which would fly.

To her and her long voyaged land,

Where she's gone eons away.

But I quit that thought.

As I cried for she is lost.

Then the mind recalled,

Her profound adored man.

She hath lend me a picture,

Of her with the handsome man of her's.

To make me burn for love and die with despair,

Which her smile and his arrogance inspire.

I died and died a trillion death.

And now I am immortal sans her love.

Memory Lane