Sing dirges and requiems hour by hour,
Weep at the graveside on bended knee
For she I love does not love me.
After
years of silence and grim contempt,
Gone
thin of face, with hair unkempt,I drift on the tide like a bottle at sea
For she I love does not love me.
My
letters unanswered and e mails unread,
With
no way to say what longs to be said,I stare in a mirror and shout brutally
That she I love does not love me.
On
the far side of town she blooms like a rose,
Her
suitors aflame for her hair and pert nose;I shuffle through streets telling each dog and tree
That she I love does not love me.
Chant
absolution and incense the dead,
Bury
each thought and foul word ever said;Pay the priests to say Masses eternally
For she I love does not love me.
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© January 2015
