Poem 104, Sonnet 50: On An Intimate’s Departure Poem by Samer Madbak

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