A Prayer

O Thou, 
who's beauty be comparable to none.

I pray in hope you grace me with thy presence
For ever since you left, my heart is a desolate one;
For it has taken to hiding behind a fence
So as not to take offence
When thy love i cannot sense.

Has Heaven from me stripped her favour
That i no longer revel in thy splendour?

If indeed it be so,
Then truly i drown in sorrow
And look not well upon the morrow
For in it, you i never saw.

If indeed it be false
Then to me return, despite all else
And once again witness, the rise of my pulse
When you enter our house
And within me arouse
The desire to make you my spouse.

Oh, My Love;
Who's beauty be comparable to none.

I pray all else turns out right
So to me you return at once
For ever since you left
My heart is a desolate one.



Nothing is stronger than habit.

Ovid