There is a certain glamour in those eyes
A curious blend of grief and gaiety
That nourishes my heart with buoyancy
Exalts my spirit unto blissful highs…
There is enchantment, though I don the guise
Of wit, believe not my serenity
The truth, my friend, is that your amity
Is habit, and I cannot neutralize
This delicate addiction which is you.
There’s charm, and when you’re not around I seem
To nurture deprivation in my heart,
A sense of loss that no one can subdue
Save your sweet presence, Friend! Who will redeem
My grave bereavement when you shall depart?
Adelaide
March 21st 1994
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem