The day to me just mute and bare,
Within the confines of my stare.
And though the sun smiles in gay,
It seems to me a dreary day.
She has left on a mercy grace,
On a kindness to emplace.
Yet It shrouds me in distress,
Without an unction of repress.
I can't suppress the wake of sorrow
Or future launch of lonely morrow.
Or feel without a twinge of quell,
The lonely time that I must dwell.
It aches me deep, her fly away,
I would her here each precious day.
She is my shoal my anchor pole.
She is the other half my soul.
Although a temporary deed,
For time, there is no retrocede.