Distant Love.

She reigns my love from a land afar,

This feeling in my chest is not whole but ajar.

.

It’s feeling is love, the slow innocent mule,

It’s feeling is pain, the lone raging bull.

.

The days do smolder like a fresh scented wick,

Some glow, some smoke, but all burn thick.

.

When I hear her voice often, I miss her much less,

When I hear her no more, my mind becomes a mess.

.

The wick has now aged, almost to its feet,

This entire length burnt, we have felt the heat.

.

It’s time for the flame to part with its light,

I’ll be back home my dear, to kiss you goodnight.

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