Picture 152

With blurred vision staring the ceiling,
I lay down supine on my pillow,
This pill too bitter to swallow,
Warm tears moping my cheeks down,
Hoping that in them I wouldn’t drown,
But it’s too much this painful feeling.

A million questions running in my mind,
To figure out why the heavens so right,
The nurtured apple plucked at night,
Left for the unknown,  yet waiting,
For their right time of harvesting,
And joy now from her I can not find.

I sought her and she was there,
She knew it all yet she did not,
Kissed it off and made me hot,
Passion soaring high deep in the sky,
Conscience questioning me why,
Her species, a kind so rare.

Dancing and captive in her fantasy,
Sharing, enduring and declaring attention,
Charmed,  subdued in her affection,
Thousands of miles astray and away,
Translucent interest each and every day,
Isn’t a thing attached to literacy.