A lonely morning wakes the same:
My bed I share with none,
And back to bed I fall asleep
Alone when day is done.
And you, my love, so far away,
I love like you were here.
I write you letters everyday;
We talk as though you're near.
The horror house I'd save you from,
Were I your gallant knight,
Of moldering confinement, lost
Potential, souring spite.
Entrapped in circumstances that
Necessitate the wait,
And forced by plague to stay in place
Or risk your mother's fate.
Oh I am hale and fear not death;
My nerves, though slightly swayed,
Yet turn towards our meeting but
For cancer, I am stayed.
I cannot hold you while she wails,
Not even glean your pain;
I cannot find a way around
The risk to her, it's plain.
A place for my poems 