Bitter Sweet Poem by Kewayne Wadley

At times like this,
I wish that she loved me.
the hourglass slowly ticks,
Counting the thick hues of the sun until night falls.
still it ticks..
Her mouth utters the sweet words of bees consuming their honey.
assuring In abundance.
As night falls the warmness of her hand proves otherwise.
No longer the warm comfort of hands that caress my shoulders.
As the warm Southern winds migrate North to a bitter frost