ODE

As she lay on her bed,
I gazed into those lovely eyes.
So full of pain, so full of dread,
Uttering unspoken, wrenching cries.

I looked into them again,
But all I saw was naked pain.
I hoped to see joy and zest,
Which had never failed to warm my breast.

She raised her pale and tortured face,
Imploring me to let her go.
Oh! My desires are so base,
Even demons would be loath to know.

I could not talk, I could not speak,
I would not cry, I would not weep.
When I held her shriveled, wasted hand,
I cursed god, I cursed this land.

I sat for hours in the dark,
There was not a mote of hope.
The desolate future empty and stark,
Till my death I can but grope.

Black slowly turned to gray,
And took her battered soul away.
It was fitting, she went at dawn,
In every day she lives on.