Great unthinkable empty gulfs
Yawn as the time approaches;
Life’s frill colors shall blanch and fade
When loneliness encroaches.
“Face the fact”, I can hear you say,
“And parting can never harm you” —
Still, as Time speeds across his stage,
Does it not, sweet, alarm you?
Mind so tortured can never rest;
Stretched ahead frowns trouble:
Future without you is just a vast
Hopeless and hollowed bubble.
Bubble? Yes, but a bubble rare–
Your face, forever, is mirrored there….
by Ray Romine Thursday, January 13, 1944
