Oh he's feeling mighty lonesome
can’t seem to sleep a wink,
walking the floor try to fathom
and in between does drink.
Is this kind of love a toxic brew
or a nectar so sweet
when loving words towards you drew
yet left in lonely street?
He just keep talking to shadows
since the blues came to life,
a love so passionate foregoes
normality for strife,
Now a man is born for loving
and some have past regret
an instinct of turtle doving
yet in you an asset.
So this feeling low to the ground
is driving one crazy,
when an Angel he knew he’d found
time spent apart mazy.
© Harry J Horsman 2013