How bitter it does taste,
this measly meal cooked for one.

How mirthful do those songbirds sing,
as chronic singletons.

How blithely do those bridges burn,
over waters still and stale.

How facetious do those clouds roll by,
whilst dropping rain and hail.

How withered are those wilted whims,
to laugh and dance with glee.

How broken it does bleakly beat,
my heart for all to see.