Goodbye

This I write in a sombre mood When it hurts like a fresh wound Where at Did God put the mold, Out of which you where curved. So that with Him I plead, For me,another like you to mold. It hurts Yet to concede I must To only hope and trust That time shall settle the mist. And only then, shall I clearly see What I didn't chance to (see) In the fog of youth. You my muse,are gone I am sad For it hurts straight to the bone, That forever, You are gone. Yet together, Long we have been. Was it selfish,was it sin Not to say, What in my heart has long been. It is but so wasteful a deed my heart To now bleed. Yet for so long Its true feelings from you I hid. However much I brood This is goodbye. (A sad sad goodbye In the words of a sad poem.)