Am going to sleep. While cleaning off the bed before i could manage to find enough space to fit my rather (modestly) largish frame in, I found this:
The Insensitive Man
_____________________________________
He didn't cry the day she left,
Or on that moonless night.
But the next morning seeing the sun,
He screamed with all his might.
He never ever saw her again,
Though he lived a good many years.
Yet every morning he remembered,
And dawn brought him only tears.
He'd loved her more than he thought,
Anyone could love in life.
But she left the day he'd sought
To ask her to be his wife.
The morning rays of the sun,
That give warmth to all things.
Yet when her warmth was gone,
All warmth was cold stings.
His bruised and battered heart,
Would nor heal nor give in.
And the man lived on though the world
Was all torture to live in.
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