Nectar Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

It seemed to soothe the wound,
old though it was, but as you know
the devil known as phantom pains
strikes hard and with impunity.
So, he decided, being one of the
remaining altruists on earth,
to stick with it, or better stick to,
as that brought sighs and great relief.
He figured, with just a tiny dash of hope,
that she might, later on, much later, turn
toward his face, so, just in case
he never ever moved.
Of course he dreams.
Of birds and bees,
and nectar,
so it seems.