Bartholomew's Reading Room
Envy
by: E. A. Bartholomew
I live in the night, yet I yearn for the day
The love that I feel is so far away
I know she's safe in her silver and lace
But I wish her here, for I need her embrace
The sweet scent of jasmine flows through the air
When my beauty is dancing, bereft of a care
Her voice is so soothing, like sand to the feet
Her touch, so congenial and full of receipt
The sunlight of day bids to damage my eyes
The moonlight of night fails to brighten the skies
But my beauty is perfect; a luminous love
Her light is as brilliant as whitest of doves
In Spring we'd stroll through the freshly sprung rye
In Fall we'd watch leaves as they fell from the sky
The coldness of Winter seeps not through her hold
Our love, like the heat of the Summer, is bold
In the midst of her presence, time seems to stand still
As we rest at the peak of a rolling green hill
Each moment is endless as we watch the sky
Yet not do we notice that clouds still roll by
Off in the distance, a tempest of wind
The dark mass would augment as lightning begins
The flocculent clouds turn to jagged and torn
As the darkness produces a turbulent storm
A violent tornado ripped through the green knolls
We sat there and witnissed it tear through our souls
Broken and shattered, twisted and torn
We drifted apart in the eye of the storm
Our romance grew dull, as a river runs dry
Not so much as a drop to moisten my eye
As the love of my life became distant and cold
She enjoyed the comfort of another love's hold