On this bitter morn’
At the passing of the night
Inclined I am by the crack of dawn
On white paper rhymes to write.
These days spent in solemn peace
Had emptied my mind of thought
I could not see just how it is
‘Till this poem to me was brought
Once again rustled was my soul
Stood still did my heart
Blood in my veins icy cold
In this peculiar month of March
What hath been forsaken
Presumably by my mind
From ignorance was awoken
To haunt these very lines
To haunt or to bless
Whichever it may be
I call upon forgetfulness
For only she can save me
I never should have met you
Not here, not now
Yet the Lord had a different view
High above this petty ground
Though to Him, I pray
Every night, and every day
Keep her eyes bright
And send me on my way
Allow me to forsake
These memories of her
Allow for her just the same
May our souls no longer hurt
Call upon the weavers of fate
So our destinies may realign
And each other we could find
In a better place
At a different time.