I ruminate confined in my white room about what is too much to now confide, in you, the she who left more than perfume. Forgive me if these words seem qualified: It only took one week of sleep by you... habitualized embracing through a dream. and now deprived of contact all night through, tonight is longer than all nights beside you seem. Despite your sweet suggestions, I can't sleep, I think a thousand thoughts all at one time- So, though I need not hours we tried keep, I'll use them now to write you verse and rhyme. It seems there's nothing else that I can do, for while I toss and turn, thoughts turn to you.